


A Truth Universally Acknowledged

by hullosweetpea



Category: Supernatural
Genre: (more on info on that in the author's note), 1990s, AOL, Anxiety, Bookstore Owner Dean Winchester, Businessman Castiel, Cybersex, Depression, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Infidelity, M/M, Miscommunication, Rom-com, Two Person Love Triangle, hand wavey New York City (sorry New Yorkers)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-01
Updated: 2018-11-01
Packaged: 2019-08-14 04:38:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 38,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16486064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hullosweetpea/pseuds/hullosweetpea
Summary: Dean is a children’s bookstore owner. Castiel is an executive for book superstore, Milton Books. They can’t stand each other. Little do they know, they’ve been corresponding through e-mail from months, their identities hidden by their rules: no names, no family, no work. Of course, there’s always nuances you’ll never know about someone until you get to know them. So while they couldn’t trust their professional selves farther than they could throw them, Dean and Castiel have relied heavily on their e-mail friendships. What happens when they plan to meet IRL? Inspired by the 1998 Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan Rom-Com - You’ve Got Mail





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It's finally here!!!! This is the 2nd DCBB I've participated in and I loved writing this. You've Got Mail is one of my favorite Rom-Coms and SPN needs a few more rom-coms (though I think a bit of angst got thrown in, oops). 
> 
> Thanks to JoJo and Muse for hosting as always and thanks to my beta casiskween and my artist DeanOh. You all have been fabulous and have made this a great DCBB round.
> 
> [link to art](https://deanohthewriter.tumblr.com/tagged/hullosweetpea)
> 
> Note: I'm terrible with getting links to work the first time on AO3, so let me know if they're broken. 
> 
>  
> 
> *a note on the Infidelity tag: SPOILERS for story follows*  
> Cas and April are already in a rough patch and on New Year's both Dean and Cas are a bit tipsy and partake in cybersex over chat. Technically cheating, but those who want Dean and Cas to get together super badly might not mind and it is something Cas talks about with both April and Dean (separately of course).

A Truth Universally Acknowledged

 

Dean yawned as he walked through the bedroom doorway towards his computer desk. He could smell coffee from the kitchen, but there was no sign of Charlie. Either she was late coming in or she had already left for the day. More likely the former than the latter. He booted up his computer and padded into the kitchen. The sun’s rays blinked through the kitchen curtains and a steady breeze blew leaves and debris down the sidewalk. Dean poured his coffee and took a deep breath. Blessed be the automatic coffee maker.

 

He sat down and loaded AOL, the accompanying voice-over played while he took his first sip. Page loaded, he browsed his inbox and found what he was looking for — a message from NYC418. Dean smiled and clicked.

 

Subject: Fall

From: NYC418

To: ImpalaGuy

 

I love New York in the fall. There’s just something about it that makes me nostalgic for school supply lists, apple cider doughnuts, and new pencils. I was walking Honey the other day and I stood in front of a stationary store for ten minutes pining for my undergrad years when stepping on campus for the first time after summer break was a breath of fresh air. The books, the notes, the time idled away holed in an obscure section of the library even the librarians had long forgotten about. And then I remembered the stress and endless bowls of macaroni and cheese and I was ever more grateful for the chicken parmesan I had the night before. I must confess I stopped back into the stationary store on my way home from work and bought a pack of No. 2 pencils, for nostalgia’s sake. Embarrassingly more than I have ever paid for pencils, but it was worth it.

 

NYC418

 

Adorable. He hit reply and began to type.

 

“Dean are you still here?” The front door shut and the lock clicked in place. Keys skittered as they fell in the bowl next to the door.

 

“Around the corner, Char.” He finished his thought and hit send.  He spun around in his chair to face Charlie as she turned the corner. Hair ruffled and scarf thrown over her shoulders, she flopped onto the couch. “And where were you last night? I thought you had a meeting with your copy editor this morning?”

 

“I do.” Charlie reached out and Dean handed her his mug. She placed it against her face and groaned. “Warm.” She took a sip. “I got caught up in my campaign last night and stayed over. Dorothy is such a great DM, made sure I got the good blanket before I passed out. You should join us. We’re almost done and you can take that time to build up your character sheet.”

 

“I dunno. You guys have been doing it for years now and I’d hate to butt in.” Dean took his mug back and chugged it down. “Plus, I’d be the only dude. Would that be weird?”

 

“One, Aaron joined this campaign, and two it’s Queer D and D night, not Lesbian D and D night. You’ll be right at home with us. I promise you’ll have fun. Consider it, okay?”

 

“Yeah I’ll consider it. Don’t know if I’ll have the time now. We’re coming up on the holidays soon.”

 

Charlie rolled closer to the couch edge. “It’s September.”

 

“And holiday shopping starts at the end of November. Gotta think about this stuff in advance. Don’t your D and D campaigns last awhile?”

 

“They can, depends on the campaign.”

 

Dean glanced over at the clock. “Shit, I need to get going.” He dropped his mug into the sink and hurried past Charlie on the couch.

 

“It’s your store. Open a little late.”

 

“You know that’s not how that works.” He shrugged his robe off and sped through his bathroom routine. Where did all the time go? Well, NYC418 is where it went.

 

A couple fingers of whiskey and late night questions of mortality found him in the over thirty chat room. He made it clear to NYC418 that he was a dude, but it didn’t bother him. He had also been a bit lonely and had hoped to make a friend. Friend. Nothing wrong with that. Dudes could bare their souls a little bit and not lose their masculinity. Probably healthier. The problem was they had been talking for almost eight months and Dean had a feeling he was a little bit in love with the guy. Dammit though, he wasn’t supposed to catch feelings.

 

He shoved his feet into his shoes and jammed his coat down on his shoulders. “Char, I’m leaving.” She grunted from the couch and he shook his head. He needed to talk to her about her sleep schedule. Man, was it getting fucked in the last few weeks. A brisk chill wound around his neck and kissed his face. Today was going to be okay.

 

-o-O-o-

 

Castiel dug the bottom of his palm into his eyes and rubbed the stiff sleep out. He shouldn’t have worked so late last night, but at least this time he got some sleep.  Then again, he was up before dawn - did it really matter? The wall clock ticked each second as it passed. He pushed his papers to the side and dragged his way to the kitchen. Honey snored on the floor — the thump of her tail kept time. Bleary green 5:34 blinked from the microwave. He started the coffee maker and yawned. It was going to be a two cup morning minimum. He opened the fridge and pushed aside old takeout and condiment bottles. No luck. Maybe he could pick something up on his way into work. The steadying drip-drip of the coffee maker drilled against his thoughts. Everything was on schedule  — maybe a tad over budget but still within the limits of the just-in-case money put aside — but he could be proud of the work he’d put into Milton Books. He grabbed a mug from the counter and poured his first cup of the day. The shower rained from the other side of the wall — a staccatoed pitter-patter shifted as April undoubtedly moved to grab at the toiletries bag she “accidently” left last time she stayed the night.

April. She was. She was. She was an unpredictable yet monotonous tick buried in his skin. But he held a duty to the family and while April had started out as a charming companion her insistence to worm her way into his private life left a soggy cereal feel in his mouth. Her actions were genuine, or at least felt genuine. Perhaps she was a bit a distant with him when they were out and about or at dinner parties, but it was still a relatively new relationship. Gabe argued that a six month relationship wasn’t “new”, but he had never exposed so much of his private life to someone outside the family in a long time. She charmed father, kept up with mother, and could handle Gabe. Yet he still felt uneasy and stumbled like a colt around the expectations of their relationship. He knew why.

 

ImpalaGuy

 

He had his work colleagues - Meg would never forgive him if he didn’t include her - but he maintained relatively professional relationships with them. Except Meg, but he never had her over to his apartment and they always met in public spaces. One memorable night they ended up at her apartment, too trashed to even remember Castiel’s address, but he never went over again. His online friendship with ImpalaGuy was easier and no doubt one of the closest relationships he had outside of his family. Which was the crux of his problem.

 

The shower turned off. He poured himself another cup of coffee and sat down at his computer.

 

April trailed her fingers over Castiel’s shoulders as she walked past. “Good morning.” The scent of her shampoo lingered as she left for the kitchen. Castiel logged on to AOL and clicked on the new message in his inbox.

 

Re: Fall

From: ImpalaGuy

To: NYC418

 

It’s always been the smell of books for me. New books, old books, ink off of fresh newspapers. That section of Westerns in the back of libraries that always smell of cigarettes. Maybe I’m romanticizing it, but there’s just something about fall that makes it easy to put on the rose colored glasses and feel like there are new beginnings. Probably that school stuff you mentioned. Never caught the school bug like you did. Libraries though, I like them too. And that’s my roommate who just walked through the door. Since you’re feeling so nostalgic, can you recommend any books? I’m in a bit of a book rut and would appreciate a new perspective.

 

ImpalaGuy

 

“There’s nothing in the fridge. Or your pantry.” The door shut and April came back in the room, mug in hand. “When do you ever eat?”

 

Castiel opened his desk drawer and pulled out a stack of take out menus. “I never know when I’ll be here or not. It seemed best not to let the food go to waste.”

 

“Maybe we should do that sometime. Order take out.” She leaned over his shoulder. “Put on a movie.” Draped her fingers down his shoulder to his chest. “Get to really _know_ each other.” She kissed his cheek. “Not that I haven’t loved what we’ve done, but it’s been six months Cas. Isn’t it about time we speed things up?”

 

Within the framework of societal standards? Yes. But. “I know, but I’m not there yet.”

 

April stepped back and pinched the bridge of her nose. “What’s wrong? Is it me?”

 

He stood up. “No, no, no. I’m just. I’ve never.” He pushed a puff of air in frustration. “I promise it’s not you, April. I thought what we were doing was enough. I’m sorry I didn’t notice. I promise I’ll make it up to you.” He kissed her cheek and brushed past her to get to the kitchen for cup three.

 

“Oh honey, all you had to do was ask and we could talk it out.” Pixelated music came from April’s purse slumped next to the couch. She reached down to picked it up. “Shit, it’s work. I should probably go. Call me when you get to the office.” She dashed out the door leaving Castiel with a cooling cup of coffee and an uneasy feeling. He sighed and left his coffee on the counter. He needed to get on with his day.

 

-o-O-o-

 

Dean’s keys clinked together as he unlocked the roll cage to his shop. It rattled as he pushed it up to open the main door. The bell chimed as he stepped inside.

 

“Wait, wait, hold the door.” Kevin ran up behind him, coffee in hand, wiggled his way through. “Morning, Dean.”

 

He flicked on the overhead lights. “You too, Kev. How did your test go?”

 

“I thought I studied enough, but question twenty-two I wasn’t one hundred percent sure. And I could have made stronger points on my essay, but the overall argument was solid.”

 

“I’m sure you did better than you think you did. Go on and get the counter ready for open. I’ve got the front.” Dean shooed Kevin away from the floor.

 

Kevin backed up towards the counter. “I also need to talk about next Thursday. I’ve got a meeting with my advisor, so I won’t be able to come in at one. Is that okay?”

 

“Yeah, just let Krissy know. She should be able to cover for you and if not me and the old man will be here.” Dean shooed him off a final time and rested his hand on a low bookshelf.

 

It was his Mom’s — soft curtains and polished hardwood floors, walls packed tight with the latest bestsellers and classics: all different sizes, shapes, and colors. The window displays were themed for the beginning of the school year: apples, pencils, a bespectacled bookworm plush, a small schoolhouse which propped up Clifford and Beverly Cleary. The store lived and breathed Mary Winchester — just the way Dean liked it.

 

He puttered around, humming as he opened shop. Soon, frazzled parents with young children would come in looking for anything to keep their little readers busy and distracted. It wouldn’t be the same as the Saturday rush, but the beginning of school year always brought new readers and their parents in search of a book to spark their kids’ imagination and a love for reading. Dean was eager to be the person to get a kid hooked on literature.

 

The bell chimed and Krissy blustered over the threshold. “You would not believe what I just saw. Milton Books, _the_ Milton Books, building a new shop half a block away. Our street!”

 

“What’s all the fuss about?” Bobby came in behind Krissy, crowding the door.

 

“Milton Books,” she hissed.

 

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose. “It might not be that big of a deal. People love us and what good is New York City if you can’t come for quality, locally owned businesses? We don’t need big companies to come in and shut us down.”

 

“Boss, you get Starbucks,” said Kevin.

 

“Not the point. Let’s go see. Show us Krissy.” Dean pushed his way through his employees and back out onto the street. They followed her and it was too soon for his liking that the looming building facade emblazoned in red appeared: COMING SOON: MILTON BOOKS.

 

“Should I look for another job,” whispered Kevin.

 

“No, no, nobody should be looking for a _job_. They’ll be loud and impersonal and after all of the brouhaha has died down people will come back to where they’ve always been: here, with us, providing quiet refuge from the city and service with personality.”

 

Krissy raised her eyebrow. “Brouhaha?”

 

“Is that what you’re going to focus on? Look, they’re still building. It’s going to take a couple of months before they open. We have the upper hand.”

 

“Are you sure about that, son? They’ve got a shit ton of money.” Bobby glanced back at the building. “And thousands of other stores to support them.”

 

“I’m keeping it positive. They can’t close us in a day.” He clapped and rubbed his hands together. “We’ve got a store to open. Can’t let this drag us down.”

 

“At least not yet,” mumbled Krissy as she turned to walk back to the store.

 

“Hey, try and keep a positive attitude over there, Daria.”

 

Krissy forced a smile. “Only for you, old man.”

 

While Dean could put up a front for his employees and customers, on the inside he panicked. He couldn’t lose his mom’s shop. This was her legacy, what felt like home the most for him. If he lost it, it would be like losing her all over again. He was going to fight this in anyway he could. He’d need to sit down, do the math, probably talk things over with Bobby. Charlie could help, get some of her friends to spread the word. Too bad he wasn’t a queer bookstore or she could put together a rally in one evening to “fight the man.” She was working on the children’s end. The fight was slow, but she was determined for diversity and inclusivity in children’s publishing. Dean couldn’t imagine what would happen if he put a copy of _Heather Has Two Mommies_ on his shelves. It was always different with kids.

 

Dean followed his employees back into his store and switched the sign from ‘CLOSE’ to ‘OPEN’.

 

The bell rang and a small girl with curly hair bounced in. “Can you help me find a book about cats?”

 

A woman dropped a hand on her shoulder. “What do we say?”

 

“Oh,” the girl’s eyes widened. “Can you help me find a book about cats, please?”

 

Dean chuckled. “Sure. I bet we have just the right one for you.”

 

-o-O-o-

 

Castiel pocketed his phone and sipped on his coffee. Not as great as what he could make at home, but every drop helped him stay awake. He shifted as he waited for Meg to show up, slightly late as always and most likely with an outrageous tale. The building had come along nicely — paint finished last week, furniture was scheduled for the end of next week, there would be the tour for investors the week before the store would open, then the ribbon cutting ceremony and it would be operating by the time holiday shopping would begin.

 

“Ugh, Clarence you would not believe what I had to get through to be here anywhere near on time. I am lucky to be alive.” Meg leaned against his shoulder and took the second coffee from the carrier. “The Lord knew what he was doing blessing me with an angel like you.”

 

He nudged her back onto her feet and walked off to begin observation. “I’m sure the piano that almost fell on you also feels like it’s had a terrible day, however, we are paid to get this store up and running, not falling over in our Milanos.”

 

“Ha! Proves what you know. These are Versace.” She looked down at his loafers and snorted. “I’d like to see you in a pair of my heels, but you can’t last five minutes.”

 

“If you’d truly like to see me in heels, you only can on Saturdays under the Angel. I’ve been told it’s quite the treat.”

 

Meg snorted and choked on her coffee. “Jesus, Cas. You can’t joke like that when I’m in a precarious situation.”

 

“How do you know I’m joking? You don’t know what I do in my off time.”

 

“No, no, no. You can’t play that game with me. No deadpan humor for you. Say shit like that and I’m likely to troll every strip club in this city to find your cute ass.” She smiled and walked ahead of him. “So, projections. Should we be able to open on schedule in October?”

 

“It’s looking like it. We might even be able to open the last week in September. Cross our fingers.” He passed her a thin packet of construction notes. “My parents more than likely will want their own private tour before the investors, so we’ll need to make sure to notify them on time or they’ll have the month booked solid and “can’t possibly squeeze me in right now.”.

 

“Brutal. Step-daddy still cheating on your mom?”

 

“More than likely. Mother refuses to admit it as she doesn’t want to have to go through the humiliation of another divorce. The first one made her look like a corporate trailblazer. The second will make everything she can’t keep a man.”

 

“Double-standards are a bitch.”

 

Castiel sighed. “Yes, well so is Mother. She’s decided that monthly calls are important, especially now that I’ve gotten serious about marriage and the family I have long denied her.”

 

“You’re not even engaged to April.”

 

“I know that, but with the way Mother is talking you’d think we’d already been married for two years and have been depriving her of grandchildren out of spite. Probably doesn’t help Father has his five year old son and Grandfather Zachariah has his nine year old daughter. She thinks it’s absolutely ghastly.”

 

“She’s not entirely wrong. Imagining Grandpa Zachy getting it on with a twenty-seven year old doctoral student is a horrifying image.”

 

“I’m well aware, but they’re both consenting adults and we are here to have a business meeting. Business first, gossip second. To the second floor.”

 

The multi-levels to the building were his favorite part. The promise of entirely different lands of books, waiting to be discovered. He wanted to recreate the feel he got when he stepped foot into his university library for the first time. Sure, there were multiple ones on campus, but it had been _his._  It felt special.

 

“The best thing we’ve probably ever done is include coffee. Books are great and all, but it can’t beat a good cup of coffee.” Meg stepped close to walk amongst the marks for the tables, the built in bar, and the secluded space where the comfy armchairs and couches would go. “I’m telling ya, this is what’s going to put us over the top in this area. Sure the little local places have charm, but we’re inviting people in, to stay awhile, catch up with a friend or a book. Get lost. Can’t do that in a tiny bookstore.”

 

“That’s the point. I want people to feel welcomed. This will be good for the area.” Castiel glowed with pride.

 

Meg snorted. “Maybe not so much for those locals, but for the customers, sure. Cheap books and coffee make money.”

 

Castiel squirmed. If there was one part that made him anxious it was pushing out the local businesses. He had to make money too, but there was something to be said about charm. The other stores also cut into local businesses, but some still remained open. It often had more to do with the owners than the customers. Owners who were involved, younger, and eager to fight often kept a cult like presence in the area. Older owners often sold their businesses and took an early retirement. However, this was the most ambitious store yet. Only the best for New York City. It was also the first one his mother was allowing him to handle solely. She had always had a place wormed into one of his projects or another, but this was the first time she didn’t mention anything. No whisper of her from the board, none from investors, and if Meg hadn’t heard anything his mother had kept her word and stayed firmly out of it. “If Mother is happy then I can rest easy.”

 

“Gee, ever thought about getting those mommy issues sorted out? I’ve got a friend whose cousin’s daughter is a psychologist.”

 

“It’s perfectly rational. Mother is the one who got me into the family business and as her only son it is my duty to continue it.”

 

“Sounds like denial to me.” Meg turned away and drank her coffee.

 

He’d known Meg for awhile. They met at university when he held her hair back while she puked her guts out at the one frat party he attended. They’d been close ever since and he didn’t think he could get rid of her even if he wanted. “I’m fine.”

 

She shrugged. “Suit yourself. How’s your internet beau? Try cybersex yet?”

 

“Meg,” he gripped her shoulder and pulled her to the side. “You can’t say things like that out loud. And besides, we don’t know anything personal about each other. How could I engage in “cybersex” if I know nothing of consequence about him.”

 

“Relax, the workers won’t rat you out to your mother. What are you going to do with April? I don’t see you going endgame with her.”

 

“April is fine. I will decide my relationship with her, not you.”

 

“Keep telling yourself that, but you’ll have to make a decision soon. Before you know it she’ll be squealing whenever you past a jewelry store.”

 

Meg walked past him to talk with the contractors about the last of the furniture orders and paint touch ups.

 

Castiel sighed and walked faster to keep up to her pace.

 

-o-O-o-

 

Dean ran the numbers again and groaned. It was all speculation. He had no idea what would happen when Milton Books opened. Maybe it bring more foot traffic past his shop, it was definitely going to take a chunk out of his sales, but it could also bring a revival of locally owned businesses. He rubbed his fingers along his sore eyes and pushed his glasses up his forehead. He had to think of something.

 

“You killing yourself over math.” Bobby sat down at the table across from Dean’s piles of past sales numbers and notebooks worth of future projections.

 

He started running numbers after the post-work rush went through, letting Krissy guard the front until the store closed. Now after hours, he thought he was alone. “I wanna get ahead of the storm. Milton Books is gonna fuck me over, but I want to prevent as much of it as possible. I’m not letting this store go under.”

 

“No reason to get cynical from the get go. Got any positivity in that angsty ass of yours?” Bobby picked up a pen and tapped it against the stack of notebooks. “Or have you already thrown in the towel?”

 

“Christ, Bobby. Can I be a little upset about this?”

 

“No.” He dropped the pen and leaned forward. “Your Mama wouldn’t be her sitting on her ass resigned herself to already losing her store. She’d be making plans on how to draw folks in while still providing the service she built her business. She wouldn’t even entertain the idea she would be losing her store.” He dropped his shoulders and leaned back. “I know it’s hurt losing your Mama, but she knew exactly what she was doing leaving this store with you. You’ve got the drive and fire. Don’t let this Milton Books bullshit drag you down. When it gets down to the dregs, then we panic. Until then, it’s business as usual.”

 

Dean grunted and shoved the calculator to the side. “Yeah, but Mom was a natural at what she did. I’m just eking it along.”

 

“Dean, listen. You’re just as good as your Mama. Don’t throw her up on a pedestal she didn’t ask for.” Bobby stood up and dragged his coat off the back. “You’re a good kid. _If_ closing even becomes a possibility, don’t think it was because you didn’t do enough. You’ll have put your heart and soul in it all the way.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

Bobby nodded and walked out of the office. “See you tomorrow.”

 

The bell chimed above the door leaving Dean alone. He sighed and stacked up the notebooks. He could put this off for another day. There was no reason to get it all done as fast as he could if it meant it wouldn’t be a solid plan. He bundled up in his coat and turned the lights off as he made his way to the entrance. He locked the door then pulled the gate down to lock it.

 

The trip back to his apartment was lonely, cold, and let too much time for him to contemplate his future. The crux of the problem was that it never really felt like _his_ shop to be honest, but his mom’s. He could talk with other business owners or schmooze with people in children’s publishing, but being in charge of the day to the day operations still felt like he was taking over for his mom while she rested.

 

He opened the door the apartment and heard Charlie at her computer, the keys clacked as she typed up an editorial, an article, or her latest piece for a zine. Never satisfied with her day job, she picked a myriad of freelance pieces. Feminism, queer studies, gaming, whatever she could get her hands on. She glimpsed up from her computer and swirled in her chair. “Hey Dean, please tell me you got food.”

 

“No, I left the store late, so I thought you would have picked something up.”

 

Charlie glanced down at her watch. “Holy Batman, you were out late. Everything okay down there?”

 

“Krissy came into the store today and,” he sank into the couch, “she dragged us all out to see the new Milton Books they’re building. In my neighborhood.” He tugged the throw blanket over his shoulders. “I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

 

“First, we’re going to order pizza.” She sat down next to him and leaned against him. “Second, this sounds like a problem we can fix with _Star Wars_. If I know you, you’ve been freaking out about this since you saw it. And I bet Bobby even told you not to worry.”

 

Dean snorted.

 

“And he’s _right_. This is just a new development that’s caught you off guard. You’ve were able to keep the store running after your mom died and I know it killed a bit of you too, but you’ve done a lot of great work with it. Don’t let yourself get down because you aren’t living up to your memory of the great Mary Winchester.” She squeezed him tight and he was glad he had her to support him. “Now what are we doing tonight?”

 

“Pizza and _Star Wars_. No panicking.”

 

“That’s right. And maybe you should call Sam too.”

 

He played with the frayed edges of the throw blanket. “Okay.”

 

She clapped his back. “Atta boy. Let me go order the pizza and you find the VHS tapes.”

 

He smiled. Anxiety was a bitch, but he could be stronger than it, at least for tonight. Greasy pizza and a comfort movie was what he needed.

 

Two pizzas, an order of cheese sticks, and one and a half movies later, Charlie snored from the couch. The TV flickered blue light across her face and she frowned in her sleep. He tucked the blanket around her and picked the phone off its cradle. He stepped into his room and dialed. One ring, two rings, three rings, “Hello?”

 

“Hey Sammy.”

 

“Dean, why are you calling. It’s late out there.”

 

“What, I can’t talk to my brother?”

 

“Normally you don’t call this late is all.”

 

He settled down on his bed and snuggled his pillow. Him and Sam may no longer be joined at the hip, but just talking to him made him feel closer. “Missed you is all. Got nostalgic and shit in the school supply aisle and thought of you. You were such a nerd when you were little.”

 

“Hey, so were you Mr. Nose-In-A-Book.”

 

Dean laughed. “So maybe we were both nerds. How’s Cali? Still sunny and all that?”

 

“Not bad. I thought after a while I would get used to the weather, but I’m still surprised I can go out and not have to wear so many layers. New York winters will do that to a person, though.”

 

“Or you just picked the right spot out there. Those places up North get pretty chilly I hear.”

 

“Yeah, but down here it’s the same all the time…”

 

Dean laid down on his bed, phone pressed to his ear, and listened to his brother. Quiet, repetitive, comforting. He let the fall and rise of Sam’s tone lull him into a peaceful state, far from the rush and stress of his day.

 

-o-O-o-

 

Subject: Do you ever get the feeling?

From: ImpalaGuy

To: NYC418

 

Do you ever get the feeling that you thinking to fast and if you just slowed down you might be able to understand everything that’s happening without freaking out? I wasn’t always like that (or at least that’s what I say. Friends and family have told me otherwise), but the older I get the more everything bothers me. Slow walking pedestrians, people who put ketchup AND mustard on their fries, rain when you have no umbrella. Maybe something happened when I wasn’t watching, but even my employees are getting on my case and they’re not THAT older than me. Got any advice?

ImpalaGuy

 

Re: Do you ever get the feeling?

From: NYC418

To: ImpalaGuy

 

Perhaps you’re unhappy with your current situation: your job, your partner, some friends, or your living situation. Little annoyances can build up over time and create larger problems that come from seemingly nowhere. In my undergrad, I was prone to anxiety attacks, something I’ve mostly overcame as I no longer have the anxiety of being an undergrad, but do controlled breathing. Meditation and yoga are also helpful, or, if all else fails, you could try therapy. I don’t know much about your upbringing or current life, but I often find it helps to talk to someone who doesn’t know you (though I suppose I just described myself now didn’t I?). Or maybe you do need to slow down. Take time off work if you can, go on a small vacation. Treating yourself can do wonders.

 

NYC418

 

Subject: Honey

From: NYC418

To: ImpalaGuy

 

Honey has been particularly ornery the last two days. I have no idea what has gotten into her, but she refuses to settle down. Running this way and that way across the apartment and pushing throw pillows off the couch. I caught her opening the cabinet doors and trying to rip open her dog food bag! She’s calmed down now, but I have no idea what put a bee in her bonnet. The downside is there’s Golden Retriever fur all over my apartment and I think she hid my slippers. But I love her all the same.

 

How are you doing? I hope my advice was of some help.

 

NYC418

 

Re: Honey

From: ImpalaGuy

To: NYC418

 

I’m glad you sent that, I needed something to smile about. I’ve been trying the breathing and I think it’s helped. My roommate agreed with you about the therapy. I haven’t gone yet, but I’m at least considering it, which is a massive accomplishment from me. (Also, don’t worry I haven’t told my roommate everything we talk about. She’s just nosey.) I wish I could visit you. Honey, all hyper-dog aside, sounds like a great dog. I’m kinda picky about dogs, but I think I could make a concession for yours. Give her an extra pat from me. Speaking of dogs, I saw a couple walking their dog in a baby stroller. Is this a new thing I’m not aware about or was this just a weird couple? I laughed though when an older woman tried to say hi to the “baby.” She nearly screamed when she saw that French Bulldog.

 

ImpalaGuy

 

Re:Re: Honey

From: NYC418

To: ImpalaGuy

 

I want you to know Honey glowed when I told her what you had to say about her. She’s very receptive to endearments and compliments. I have to make sure to curb them or it will go straight to her head. A dog might do you some good. They’re non judgemental, force you to get up and leave your bed, and make fine listeners. They also cannot be emotionally burdened by what you say and will only ever give you love in return — at least that’s been my experience with Honey. She’s a gentle, sweet soul, who will only trash your apartment when there are treats hidden everywhere. One of my acquaintances hid them to earn her trust, which completely backfired as Honey had no idea of who planted them, but only knew my apartment had suddenly turned into a magic doggy treat dispenser. It also explained the vomit I found in the back of my closet.

 

NYC418

 

Re:Re:Re: Honey

From: ImpalaGuy

To: NYC418

 

I don’t know if I’d get a dog. I’m gonna wait on that one, but hey! At least you solved the mysterious case of hyper-dog. That’s what happens when you don’t teach your dog the dangers of taking random treats.

 

ImpalaGuy

 

-o-O-o-

 

“This looks great, Castiel.” His father walked down the stairs back to the main floor, his current wife on his arm. “I couldn’t be more proud.”

 

He turned to his mother. While father’s praise was just as nice, he knew he only passed if she approved. “And you, Mother?”

 

She smiled and took his face in her hands. Her rings were cold against his skin. “Oh, I’m so proud of you. I knew you would be able to accomplish this one day. You’ve learned so much from me. Once this is all settled and down we can talk about your next project. I can’t wait to see what you’ll do next.” She patted her husband’s arm. “Didn’t he do a nice job?”

 

“A fine job indeed. Wait until it opens. You’ll have the little guys closed in weeks.”

 

His father clapped his shoulder. “Now, now, aren’t some of them already closed down or sold? Already scaring them off before you open. That’ll weed out the weak.” He chuckled.

 

His mother nodded. “That’s what I heard. Susan told me Mary Winchester’s store looks like it’s going to stand its ground. What’s it called again?”

 

“The Shop Around the Corner, ah Mary Winchester. She had fire that one.” His father sighed. “You should of seen her when she was pissed. God, she could have scared the devil back to Hell. Doesn’t her son run it now?”

 

“Yes, her eldest, Dean. I’ve seen him flit around the circles with that redhead, Celeste isn’t it? Doesn’t like to socialize a lot, but he seems to have friends in some high places.” His mother raised on eyebrow. “Such a shame Mary died so young. Could have done a lot more than that little shop. I had her picked to head a new section in children’s publishing. She knew her stuff.”

 

Castiel shifted from foot to foot. He was over thirty for Christ’s sake, but his parents still treated him has a kid. A pat on the head for a job well done before a dismissal so the adults could talk.  He was glad his parents wanted the private tour or they would have made him a fool in front of the investors. In front of anyone but his parents he was well versed, strong, and a leader. With his parents he was still the fourteen year old boy sniffling through their lecture because he received a ‘B’ on an essay. “Mother, Father. Don’t you have meeting at lunch?”

 

His mother patted his cheek. “Yes, thank you dear. We should be headed off.” His parents and their respective spouses walked towards the entrance, largely leaving Castiel by himself.

 

“The nanny should be out front soon to drop the children off with you. Are you sure you want to spend the day with them. You can do a lot with a Saturday,” said his father.

 

“I’m looking forward to it. The kids like each other and I think it will do us all good to bond.”

 

His father shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

 

Castiel held the door open as they spilled out onto the sidewalk. A black car pulled up to the curb and Claire and Jack fell out and ran across the sidewalk. “Cas! Cas! Cas!”

 

He stooped down and opened his arms wide. They ran right into him and he had to brace himself so he didn’t fall over. “Oof, have you guys gotten bigger since the last time I saw you?” He nudged them away and stood up. “I think you have.” He scooped Jack up into his arms. “Look at how tall you are. Even taller than Claire. When did that happen?”

 

Jack grinned and shook his head. “No Cas, Claire’s taller than me.”

 

“Then how did you get so big?”

 

“‘Cause you’re so tall!”

 

He looked down at Claire then back at Jack. “You’re right, silly me.” He sat Jack back down and took his hand. “What do you say to everyone.”

 

“Bye,” shouted Claire. She took Castiel’s other hand and started to tug him in the opposite direction. “C’mon. There’s a party today.”

 

He dropped his hand to her shoulder. “One second Claire. Jack, what do you say?”

 

He grinned. “Bye.”

 

His parents smiled and waved back at the kids. “Have a nice day,” added his mother. They got into the car and it drove off leaving Castiel and the kids on the sidewalk.

 

“So what is this party about?”

 

Claire furrowed her eyebrows. “There’s games, and food, and stuff. Nanny Tess talked about it.”

 

“Well, will just have to find it. Was it maybe called a fair.”

 

Jack tugged on Castiel’s trousers. “Can we go on the boat?”

 

“Not today, but I promise one day to take both of you out on a special trip.”

 

The boat was one of the most awkward things Castiel had the displeasure of owning. After his graduation, his parents decided a big splashy gift was in order and bought him a boat to sit at the docks next to the family boat. He rarely went out on it, but the kids loved it and he would do anything for them.

 

They wandered around until they found the fair Claire mentioned, not too far from the stores location. They must have had to take a detour as parts of the street were blocked off for a fall festival. Claire and Jack pulled him in each and every direction, following the sweet smells, loud games, and colorful prizes and areas. He watched them closely and coaxed them to indulge in all the festival had to offer. He more than likely would never have children to spoil and love, so Claire and Jack had to be his surrogates. He cheered them on at games, took them to a face painting booth, and even managed to squeeze himself in a toy car ride with them.

 

In the late afternoon, his arms were of full prizes, balloons, and a memorable goldfish. Claire and Jack lagged behind. Something quiet would do nicely, a place to stop for a moment and recuperate.

 

“Ooo, story time. Can we go in?” Claire pointed at a large sign of an open book with the words “Story Time Saturday” with an analog clock set to three.

 

He pushed his shirt cuff up and glanced at his watch. Three thirty. “Yeah, they shouldn’t be finished with the story.” He ushered them inside and bell chimed. He maneuvered the kids and all of their new purchases inside and nudged them towards the large gathering of children. A man sat in front of them, reading in a low voice before rising with suspense. He situated the kids around the outer edges. He listened to the storyteller’s voice: pleasant, smooth, deep.

 

-o-O-o-

 

Dean watched his step as he put _Boy_ back behind the counter. It was always crowded after story time, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. The kids loved it, he loved it, and if it helped boost sales why not? He loved listening to his mom read to him as a kid. A small tug on the back of his shirt. He turned around and there was a girl. “Hello, how can I help you?”

 

“I’m looking for a book my friend wants me to read. She said it’s about a princess who lives with dragons?” The girl’s voice rose at the end as if she wasn’t sure she remembered right.

 

“I think I know just the book you’re looking for.” He scanned the bookshelf and pulled three books out. “It’s the Enchanted Forest Chronicles. The first book, _Dealing with Dragons_ , is about Princess Cimorene who is frustrated with her princess life and wants to do more. When she learns her parents are arranging her marriage she runs away and finds a group of dragons. She convinces Kazul to take her ‘captive’. Everything is fine until wizards start to invade the dragons’ territory.” He handed it to her and held out the other two. “Then there’s _Searching for Dragons_ and _Calling on Dragons_. They’re great books for anyone who wants to break out of the princess mold.”

 

The girl grabbed the other two books and stared at them. She smiled. “So Cimorene fights bad guys?”

 

“Uh-huh. She learns how to use magic and fight and she’s always got Kazul by her side. They’re pretty great. I always keep a couple in stock so I can share them. Isn’t that the best part about reading? Getting to share the stories with others?”

 

The girl beamed. “Uh-huh. I bet Kaia would love these.”

 

“What have you got here, Claire,” asked a man. The young boy on his hip held _Max and Ruby_.

 

“These are the books Alex was talking about. It’s about this princess who fights bad guys and has a dragon and she said it was super cool.”

 

The man ruffled her hair. “That sounds great. Do you want those?”

 

“Yes, please.” She cradled them to her chest.

 

“Would you like more? Don’t be shy.”

 

Clairel grinned and left to search the bookshelves. The man had a fond look on his face as he watched her side to side with the other kids, chatting. “Do you need any help with anything, sir?”

 

The man blinked. “Oh. I’m not quite sure. Jack was looking for a book with llamas? I’m not sure what that means.”

 

Dean turned towards the boy in the man’s arms. “Llamas, huh? Is there anything else in the book you remember?”

 

“There’s bats, and cows, and mamas.” He moved his _Max and Ruby_ and poked the man in the face. “The mama llama book.”

 

“I know just the one.” He headed to the register and went behind Krissy and Kevin to pull a copy of _Is Your Mama a Llama?_ from the display with plush llamas. “Is it this one?” Jack nodded. This guy had a cute family. The kind Dean had to tell himself was not happy, at least not any time soon, or if at all. God, he didn’t even know if he could handle all the spit up. “Would you like to pay now?”

 

“Once Claire gets back, hopefully. She’s at that stage where she devours everything she reads.” The man pulled the book from Jack’s hands and placed it on the counter. “I hope she never outgrows it.”

 

“I never did. I’m Dean.”

 

“Steve.”

 

“Nice to meet you, I think Claire is ready to go.” Claire placed three more books on the counter along with the Enchanted Forest Chronicles. “You’ve got a great Dad to buy all these books for you.”

 

Claire laughed. “He’s not my Dad. He’s my nephew.”

 

The fuck? “Your nephew, huh?”

 

Steve wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Yes, this is my Aunt Claire.”

 

“Then is Jack your uncle?”

 

Jack beamed. “No.”

 

“Your father?”

 

“No.”

 

“Your grandfather?”

 

“No!”

 

“Then what are you?”

 

“I’m his brother!”

 

Dean turned to face Steve. “Is that true?”

 

Steve nodded. “Claire is my grandfather’s daughter and Jack is my father’s son. We are...an American family. I love to spend time with them. Family’s important, you know?”

 

Dean swallowed. “Yeah, I do.” He put the last book in the bag and glanced up at the register’s screen. “Fifty-seven twenty-three.”

 

Bobby cut between Dean and Krissy to pull a book. “You’ll come back, right?”

 

Steve sat Jack back down on the floor and pulled out his wallet. He handed over three twenties. “I hope so.”

 

“See, I told you. We’ll have people to support us. Don’t worry so much.” Bobby clapped his shoulder. “We’ll make it through.”

 

“Trouble?” asked Steve.

 

Dean opened the register and counted out change. “Milton Books is moving in down the block. It’s gonna suck, but we’ll get people to stay with us. Can’t beat our charm.” He winked. “Well, Claire, you take good care of your nephew out there.”

 

“I will.” She grabbed the bag and made for the door. “C’mon, can we get ice cream?”

 

“One second.” He turned back to Dean. “Thank you.”

 

“You’re welcome. Hope to see you guys again. Goodbye Claire, bye Jack.”

 

“Bye,” shouted Jack as they left.

 

Steve ushered the kids out the door and shut the balloons on the other side. The door opened again. “I’m glad that wasn’t the fish.” He bopped the balloons out the door and held tight to the string so they would follow. It was cute. And exactly the kind of interactions Dean knew they couldn’t replicate at Milton Books.

 

-o-O-o-

 

Subject: Movies?

From: ImpalaGuy

To: NYC418

 

I was watching _Star Wars_ the other day and it occurred to me we've never talked about movies. It's a massive portion of my life, but I’ve never brought it up. _Star Wars_ , Indy, those bad monster flicks from the 50’s. I've got so many VHS tapes they fight for room on my shelf with my books. There's just something about forgetting your life for about two hours and getting to live someone else's adventure that's exciting. Please tell me you've watched something I have, so we can talk about it. My roommate and brother have put up with a lot of discussions and I'm sure they’d love if if I'd share with someone else.

 

ImpalaGuy

 

Re: Movies?

From: NYC418

To:ImpalaGuy

 

I'm embarrassed to admit I've only seen the first _Star Wars_ and after that I'm not too familiar with the others. I've always had a packed life either dictated by my parents or my job. I do remember watching _Bambi_ , which went as well as you can imagine. Do you have any recommendations?

 

NYC418

 

Re: Re: Movies?

From: ImpalaGuy

To: NYC418

 

Dude. DUDE. You need to watch _Star Wars_ . And Indiana Jones. _Alien_ for sure. Start there and tell me when you need more. Man, I wish we could do movie nights. You should see the ones my roommate and I have with our friends. It’s a lot of fun.

 

ImpalaGuy

 

Re:Re:Re Movies?

From: NYC418

To: ImpalaGuy

 

I’ll keep you updated. Tonight will be _Star Wars_.

 

NYC418

 

-o-O-o-

 

Dean scowled at his calculator and shoved himself away from the dining room table. Fuck this.

He stormed to the kitchen and pulled out tomatoes. _Chop chop_ . This motherfucker. _Chop chop._ Mr. Moneybags. _Chop chop chop._ Why did he even need to open up another store in the first place?

 

“I hear angry cooking. Dean, why are you angry cooking?” Charlie stepped into the kitchen and draped her arms over his shoulders.

 

“Milton Books. They’re open for one week — _one week_ — and we’ve already seen a drop in sales compared to this time last year. We’re weeks away from the holiday season and if this keeps up I don’t know if I can keep the store closed past the new year.” He shoved the tomatoes off the cutting board and into a pot. Where was the chicken stock?

 

“Hey, simmer down. Is one week even a good measure? They’re new. They’re shiny. Once the newness all wears off people will see it for what it is: large, impersonal, and a product of the man. Who knows? Maybe once the holiday season starts you’ll see your numbers go back to normal. People love to go to little shops to go the extra mile. To say “I loved you so much I didn’t just pick up a present for you at the check-out line while I bought something for me.”

 

“Can you grab me an onion?”

 

“I’m just saying, I agree with Bobby. You’re freaking out way too soon over this shit. If you work yourself up like this you’re never gonna get out and you’ll be shaking at the counter with anxiety. Did you ever fill that prescription from the psychologist?”

 

“Fuck!” He pulled his cut finger away from the cutting board and turned on the tap. He scrubbed at the cut and pulled away the edges of dead skin. “I never really got around to it. I’ve been busy at the store making sure everything is perfect and going over old sales and Mom’s records.” He turned off the tap and pressed a dishcloth to the wound. “I meant too, I really did. Should I even do it? Should I just still with the talk therapy?”

 

Charlie opened a cabinet and pulled out the Band-Aid box. “I’m sure you did, but it can’t help you if you don’t fill it. And maybe you’ll find talk is best.” She peeled the backing off and waited for him to remove the dishcloth to wrap it around his finger. “I know you think you’re killing your mom again if you lose the store —”

 

“Charlie —”

 

“No, let me finish. I know you don’t want to lose the store because you think you’re losing your mom again, but do you really think she would rather you kill yourself over it instead of doing your best while staying sane.”

 

“Charlie —”

 

“No, pick one.”

 

Dean stared down at his bandaged finger. “She’d want me to do the second one.”

 

She kissed his finger. “Right. Now, what are we making?”

 

“Tortellini soup.” He threw out the onion he bled over and began to cut the other half he saved. “Can you check the freezer for chicken broth? I’m pretty sure there should be some left over from that roast chicken we had a couple of weeks ago.”

 

“You got it.”

 

He listened to her shuffle around containers and baggies and focused on his breathing. In. Out. In. Out. Base for tortellini soup: tomatoes, white onion, chicken stock, heavy cream, basil, rosemary, salt, pepper, a touch of butter.

 

She sat the container to the side of the pot. “Anything else?”

 

“Could you stay in here, visit with me?” It felt selfish. It was selfish. She probably had work she needed to do and it’s not like she could entertain him at every moment of the day.

 

“Of course.” He heard the scrape of a kitchen chair pulled across the floor. “D and D has been great. Aaron’s been dying a lot, so at this point he’s got a stack of character sheets made up already, but this current one, Golem, might be a keeper. Dorothy was so pissed when we didn’t get the joke of her side quest, but to be fair to us it was already pretty late into the night.”

 

“How are you and Dorothy? Any closer to sealing the deal?”

 

“Actually,” she moved from the chair to hop up on the counter. “We’re official.”

 

He dropped the spoon and hugged her. “That’s great. I’m so happy for you guys. You’ve known each other for so long. It’s gonna be great, I know it.”

 

“Thanks. I didn’t know how to tell you, because for awhile I didn't’ know if we were official. I finally just asked her and she said we were. It’s been great.”

 

“I’m glad.” He stirred and opened the freezer to pull out the fresh tortellini he bought earlier in the day. “So that would explain the extra all nighters then. Don’t forget to sleep, it’s important.”

 

“You think Dorothy doesn’t badger me about that? I think I sleep more with her than have sex.”

 

“Oh, you’re already having sex?”

 

“Yeah, little steps. Nothing, like, over the top. And only a couple of times. It’s not like we don’t know each other. We get to skip the whole ‘getting to know you’ phase.”

 

Dean dropped the tortellini into the pot. “Just remember to enjoy all of it.”

 

“I will.”

 

He covered the pot and set a timer. “Okay, I want you to get back to whatever you were working on — don’t give my that look. I’m sure you’re close to a deadline and need to finish. I’m gonna go clean the bathroom. Then maybe get the laundry thrown together. If you’ve got anything, throw it in or do it yourself.”

 

She stood up on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “That’s the Dean I like to see.”

 

He ruffled her hair. “Yeah, yeah. Love you too, kiddo.”

 

-o-O-o-

 

Shrimp and pasta in creamy alfredo sauce, a basket of covered bread, a bottle of wine breathing on the table. Castiel frowned. “What’s all this?”

 

April entered from the kitchen, salad bowl in hand. “This is a celebration.”

 

He hung his coat on the hook and untied his shoes. Honey, nowhere in sight, must have been shut in the bathroom. “For what?” He walked to the table and ran his fingers over the white tablecloth. Was this even his. “It’s not an anniversary, right?”

 

She laughed and sat the bowl down. She grabbed his hands and kissed him. “No, you had a very successful first week for your new superstore and I just landed a great new author. Luck just seems to be coming our way.”

 

He sat down and poured their wine. The candlelight flickered over her face, the glow a bright spot in her dark pupils. “Thank you for putting this together. It’s lovely.”

 

“Well, you said you can’t cook and I’ve taken a few classes. I thought it would be nice to have a home cooked meal. Romantic,” she sipped her wine “really set the mood.”

 

He stared down at his plate and twirled the alfredo, speared a shrimp. It was nice, but the romantic air dampened his mood. “Where did you learn to cook?”

 

“I took classes with an ex-boyfriend.” She uncovered the basket and pulled bread out for each of them. “He was like you, absolutely horrible. The instructor even pulled us aside and asked if we’d like a refund. We kept through it though, his pride was so bad, and he managed to make one decent thing — omelets. For weeks after that was all he made. Breakfast, lunch, dinner, I almost think those omelets were the reason we broke up.” She scraped her fork along the plate. “It’s why I can’t even look at eggs again, let alone eat them.”

 

“I don’t think I would have been much better, but.” Her foot slide up the side of his calf, only about half way. “But it is good to know. About the omelet thing. I would hate to put you in an uncomfortable position.”

 

She dropped her head into her hands, elbows on the table. “You couldn’t possible dream of it. Your the sweetest guy I’ve ever dated.”

 

Her foot inched farther, then pulled back, go back up. He squirmed in his seat. It should be easy. Not tonight. Not right now. I thought we were having a nice meal. “That’s kind of you to say. I would hate to be anything less than that.”

 

“See, there you go again.” She smiled wide and refilled her barely empty glass.

 

The dinner fell into silence. Her foot continued to trail along his leg as they ate. The candlelight no longer felt romantic, but instead predatory with her intense stare across their meals. He wished it could be over with, but he hate to rush through the meal and kick her out of his apartment. Her foot brushed past his penis. He froze. She bit her lip and dropped her fork. The clatter made him twitch.

 

“I’ve got dessert in the fridge. I’ll go get it.” She stood up and left.

 

He straightened up further in his chair and loosened his tie. Other people did it, why couldn’t he? It was just sex, nothing he hadn’t done before. Maybe only a few times and maybe he’d only been sort of okay with it. After dessert, he would ask her kindly to leave. He’d had a long day. He had an early day tomorrow. Anything to get her out and he could curl up on his couch with Honey in his lap.

 

“Got room for more?” She stood in the doorway, top gone and her breasts covered in whipped cream. Maraschino cherries studded the middle of each where her nipple would be. The right one slipped through the melting cream.

 

He stood up from the table, rattled the silverware. “April, this has been lovely, but you have to go.”

 

“It okay, there’s plenty to do while we wait for you to get hungry.” She stalked towards him and undid his tie. “After all, don’t you have coffee with dessert?”

 

She leaned up to kiss him and he pushed her away. “Please, I’m not feeling well and I’d appreciate it if you left. You made us a wonderful meal, but I can’t — I’ll call you in the morning.” He kept his head bowed towards the floor as he listened to her storm around the apartment. The water in the kitchen rushed as she no doubt wiped away the evidence of her seduction. Light thuds as she redressed and crammed into her heels. She thudded towards the door and left with a slam. Why couldn’t he do it?

 

He sped walked to the bathroom and let Honey go. She zoomed around the apartment, sniffed at the table, and pranced back to him. He sat down on his couch and she jumped up and laid her head down on his thigh. He picked up the phone and dialed Meg. One ring, two rings. “Hello?”

 

“Meg, can you just talk to me?”

 

Shuffles. “You okay? You never call my home phone.”

 

“I know, I just — I don’t know.”

 

“Did something happen on your way home? Or something else?”

 

“I'm not sure. Take my mind off of it, please.”

 

“I'd feel better if there was someone there to watch over you.”

 

Wait. Maybe there could be. He pushed Honey off his lap and sped to his laptop. He has to be online. He had to be online. He listened to Meg worry in his ear as he waited for everything to boot up. Instant messaging, ImpalaGuy was online. “Meg I'm sorry to have bothered you, but I figured it out.”

 

“Good, but you promise me you’ll explain this sometime.”

 

“I will, have a good night.”

 

“You too.”

 

He opened the chat and started.

 

-o-O-o-

 

NYC418: Is not too late to chat, is it?

 

ImpalaGuy: Nope, anything on your mind?

 

NYC418: A lot of things, but honestly I’d rather not focus on them specifically. I’d rather talk about anything else than that.

 

ImpalaGuy: You okay?

 

NYC418: I’ve been better.

 

ImpalaGuy: That’s not encouraging.

 

NYC418: I’ve had a long day and would love a distraction.

 

NYC418: Besides Honey, who currently thinks she’s a lap dog.

 

ImpalaGuy: Isn’t she a golden retriever?

 

NYC418: Yes

 

ImpalaGuy: Must have a big lap

 

ImpalaGuy: Did you watch those movies?

 

NYC418: I did. Star Wars was great and so was Indiana Jones. Aliens is next. I’ve never been to Blockbuster so much in my life.

 

ImpalaGuy: You need to chill out more. If you don’t watch TV or movies, what do you do?

 

NYC418: Don’t laugh

 

ImpalaGuy: promise

 

NYC418: I like to write, sometimes paint.

 

ImpalaGuy: That’s super cool. Why would I laugh at that?

 

NYC418: My mother said it was frivolous

 

ImpalaGuy: No, it’s called having a hobby. You’re allowed to have those.

 

ImpalaGuy: I like to cook and bake. Nothing’s more therapeutic after a bad day then kneading dough.

 

NYC418: Sounds delicious, wish I could eat some.

 

ImpalaGuy: Me too, I love to share.

 

ImpalaGuy: My roommate says I’m too much of a caretaker.

 

NYC418: Well, do you remember to take care of yourself?

 

NYC418: I’ll take the long pause as a no.

 

ImpalaGuy: It’s not like I purposefully forget. And sometimes the depression and anxiety make it worse.

 

ImpalaGuy: By the way, I did take your advice. I think it’s working so far.

 

NYC418: That’s great.

 

ImpalaGuy: I’m sure it would be better if I actually took the meds they prescribed me, but I’m not sure how I feel about it. Shouldn’t I feel better just talking to someone? Isn’t that bad enough?

 

NYC418: Everyone copes at different times and in different ways. Would you look down on someone who needs pain meds after a surgery?

 

ImpalaGuy: Oh

 

NYC418: It’s your decision to make. Do they have group therapy? Maybe that will help you make your choice.

 

ImpalaGuy: I don’t know if I want to talk to strangers about it

 

NYC418: You’re telling me

 

ImpalaGuy: It’s different

 

NYC418: I should really get to bed. I’ve got a long day tomorrow. Thank you for keeping me distracted.

 

ImpalaGuy: No problem. Give Honey a pat for me.

 

NYC418 has logged off.

 

ImpalaGuy has logged off.

 

-o-O-o-

 

Dean put the mini pigs in a blanket on his plate. And some of the turkey. Was that caviar?

 

“Are you going to eat all night?” Charlie slipped her arm around his and snatched a pig in a blanket from his plate. “You’ve got to at least talk to someone. We can make the circuit then get you out of here.”

 

“It’s the meds, Char. I don’t know if these are good.” He couldn’t even drink the fancy champagne they had out. God, why did she had to drag him here. Industry parties always made him feel out of place. He wiggled the knot of his tie. Were the meds even the right decision?

 

“They said you got to be on them for a little bit. Just keep track of the side effects and they’ll adjust them if they need to or get you a completely new one if this one just isn’t compatible. Or they can ease you off them if you hate them, we’ll get you out with the psychiatrist and only keep you with the therapist. ” She squeezed his forearm. “Remember, you can’t change everything in one day. It’s a slow process.”

 

“I know. Couldn’t you’ve taken Dorothy to this? Why drag me out of the apartment?”

 

“One, you got an invitation too — Billie adores us — and two, Dorothy and I aren’t there yet. Also, three, these people don’t know I’m queer as they come.”

 

“Fair, you could’ve just said she was a visiting cousin are a long time friend.”

 

“Cousin or gal pal, are those really my options.”

 

“I’m not the one who picked your line of work.”

 

She snorted and rolled her eyes. “I told you: from the inside. Now, let’s get some of that caviar. There are only two pluses to these events: expensive food and schmoozing people. I want to be stuffed full of food I can’t normally buy and have more leverage coming my way by the end of the night.” She stepped close forward and bumped into a woman. “Sorry — oh hi, April.”

 

April turned around and beamed. “Celeste, it’s so good to see you, dear. We’re so proud of Billie. Knew she’d be a smashing success.” She downed the last of her drink and grabbed the arm of a man faced away towards a group of men. “Darling, this is Celeste Middleton. She’s the children’s agent I keep telling you about.”

 

The man turned around and it was Steve from weeks ago. “It’s lovely to meet you, I’m Castiel Novak.”

 

Son of a bitch. Charlie shook his hand. “And you too. It must be nice to have such a success to end the new year.”

 

His smile is small. “It will be nice to end on an accomplishment.”

 

April grabbed a new glass as a waiter floated by and took a sip. “Celeste, we should go find a corner for ourselves and leave the men to talk.” She pulled Charlie away from him, leaving him alone next to the table with Castiel.

 

Dean scooped up dip and slapped it on his plate. “So, were you spying on my shop when you came in?”

 

“Spying on your,” he furrowed his brows. “No, I was just having a nice day out with Claire and Jack.” Castiel glared at him and snatched the spoon.

 

“I bet they aren’t even related to you. Did you hire them?”

 

“Hire them, Jesus, what kind of person do you think I am?” He scraped the decorative caviar off the edges of the plate and dripped it onto his plate.

 

“The kind of person who would hire kids and come spy on my shop so you can close us faster.” He stole the spoon back and set it on the serving plate. “And that is a garnish.”

 

Castiel inched further down the table and picked up the meat forks to scoop out the turkey. “I just wanted them to have a nice day. I worry they don’t get enough love or have an adult genuinely pay attention to what they say. I know Jack’s mother tries, but I can’t always say the same for Claire’s. And don’t even throw their fathers in the picture. I can’t help if they wanted to go into your store. And if it makes you feel better, they had a nice time. Claire and Kaia love the Cimorene books. Jack is happy I have a copy of the ‘Mama Llama’ book at my place even though he hasn’t visited yet.”

 

Dean gripped his plate. Here stands the guy who has put him through so much stress and anxiety, a juxtaposition of ‘Corporate Asshole’ and ‘Good with Kids’. “You can’t recreate that kind of experience in your superstores. They’re impersonal and void of care.”

 

“Your shop might be cute, but it is insignificant outside of the neighborhood it resides. Milton Books can spread the love of reading and literacy farther than the warm, fuzzy feeling you provide to a handful of people.” He grabbed a napkin and stalked away.

 

Dean sat his water glass down and breathed. It wouldn’t help if he chased the guy and punched him in the face. Well, it would help the way he felt, but not his reputation for sure. This was a room of industry people, there was no room for public petty revenge. Private petty revenge could be arranged, but it would look terrible if what he did ever came to light, especially as a children’s bookstore owner. In. Out. In. Out. Maybe he should have waited until next week to start his meds, but he knew if he put it off any longer he wasn’t going to do it and then Charlie would be disappointed. Understanding, but disappointed.

 

He settled down in a quiet room and picked through his food. Billie’s house was nice: warm colors, comfy furniture, bookshelves full. He fidgeted in the armchair and popped a pig in a blanket in his mouth. In a hotel ballroom he might have been fine. A nice dining hall or a rented out restaurant, those were easy to slip out unnoticed and wait in the car for Charlie. These intimate parties at the author’s house were not only weird, but hard to leave. Only one entrance and exit and he had to pass so many people to get there, all wondering ‘Where are you going?,’ ‘Why are you leaving so soon?,’ or ‘Where’s Celeste?’.  Charlie was the people person. Him, well, a while ago maybe, but lately not so much. Kids, though, had no expectations and judgements about the way you lived your life. Sure they could be judgey, but there was no air of superiority.

 

“Dean, there you are. Are you okay?” Charlie sat on the arm and snuck a piece of turkey off his plate and into her mouth.

 

“I’ve been better. I really don’t think these meds work.”

 

“Okay, let’s get you out of here. We can go make our apologizes to Billie and then head back to the apartment.” She set his plate on a coffee table and pulled him out of the armchair. “I’ll make it quick and painless.” She guided him through the small groups and leaned into Billie’s side. “I’m so sorry, but we have to jet. A bit of an emergency just popped up.”

 

Billie nodded. “Of course. It was so nice to see you two again.” She waved at them and turned back to her group.

 

As they left, he noticed Castiel at the edges of a group dominated by April. He swirled his champagne in its glass and sighed. He glanced up and caught Dean’s eyes. He look almost — regretful?

 

He zoned out their trip back to the apartment and fell into bed displaced. Maybe there was more to Castiel Novak than he thought.

 

-o-O-o-

 

Subject: Regrets

From: NYC418

To: ImpalaGuy

 

Do you ever do something and almost immediately regret it? I had that feeling tonight. I said something awful and hurtful to someone I barely know all because he insulted me. It’s irrational, but I still hold my parents opinion of me in high regard, so when I’m ever challenged over something they value in me I get incredibly defensive. I’m proud of my own achievements, I know I’m successful, but without their input it seems diminished. And their approval has turned me into an awful, achievement minded person. I’d like to apologize, but there is no way they would want to listen to me, that’s how bad I burned that bridge.

 

NYC418

 

Re: Regrets

From: ImpalaGuy

To: NYC418

 

I think everyone in life regrets something at some time or another. God knows I do. I honestly wish I had your power to say something. When I want to say something I either clam up or say something stupid. Once they’ve left and it’s all said and done is when I finally think of something and I hate I never get to say it in the heat of the moment. Maybe if you give me all your good lines I can finally have my moment and you won’t have to feel weighed down by the regret. It’s not a perfect solution, but it would be better for both of us then the path we’re currently running a rut.

 

ImpalaGuy

 

Re:Re: Regrets

From: NYC418

To: ImpalaGuy

 

But how would I get the withering comebacks to you in a timely fashion? Pigeon? IM? Morse Code? No, I think it’s safe to say for now, both of us have dug our graves and are settled in our caskets. Perhaps it will change in the future, I want it to change for me. I will promise you, the ability to dismiss someone with a witty zinger is not what it is all cracked up to be.

 

NYC418

 

-o-O-o-

 

Castiel rolled over and glared at his clock. 8:47. He had a meeting in less than fifteen minutes and the fact Meg had not called him should clue him in to his out of place morning sloth like attitude. If he rushed, he would be reasonably late. He shuffled farther under the covers. He should be there for the meeting. It was the first time everyone would get together to go over the numbers of the superstore’s first month of business. He should be proud. He should feel accomplished.

 

He should be out of bed.

 

He watched the digital clock’s numbers flit through past nine.

 

His cell phone rang.

 

His home phone rang.

 

He sat up and tumbled out of bed. He grasped for his home phone and dialed Meg’s cell. One ring, two rings, three rings, four rings. “Where the hell are you? Everyone is in there wondering where the hell Mr. Punctual is. Please tell me you’re on your way.”

 

“I’m,” He cleared his throat, “I’m not coming in.” He turned his head and coughed. “I don’t feel good, so I’m taking a sick day. I’m sorry for the late call and the inconvenience, but I just woke up.”

 

“He’s human! Take it easy and if you need to call out again tomorrow, do it. I’ll e-mail you the notes and we can get together to go over it. If any of the other execs want to see you they can schedule their own damn meeting. I’m not the secretary and I’ll put my foot down on that.”

 

“Understood. Please don’t ostracize yourself from the others. I need this company to function.”

 

“I’ll be able to charm them back. Now get some sleep or order soup or something. Doctor’s orders.”

 

“Will do.” He settled the phone back in the cradle. He pulled a throw off the back of the couch and wrapped it around his shoulders. Honey padded into the room, hopped up, and settled against his legs. He rubbed the fur on the side of her neck and her tail twitched. He grabbed the remote and flipped through the channels to a cooking show.

 

He needed to call more people to let them know he wouldn’t be in today. Or he could call his secretary so she could make the calls. He rubbed his temples. He reached over the arm of the couch to grab the phone. One ring. “Mr. Novak’s office, how can I help you?”

 

“Yes, Hannah, this is Castiel. Could you please reschedule my meetings? I won’t be coming in today.”

 

“Do you need me to reschedule tomorrow’s meeting as well, sir?”

 

“No, no. I think I’ll be back. Just focus on today’s. Thank you, Hannah.”

 

“You’re welcome, Mr. Novak. I hope you feel better soon.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

He dropped the phone in his lap and nuzzled Honey close. The background buzzed with the sizzle of vegetables in a pan and the clank of metal on metal. Light piano tinkled into the commercials and flipped to upbeat pop for a car company.

 

The holidays were approaching — Claire and Jack would enjoy a day out in the city, the cold nipping at the exposed parts of their faces and they’d warm up at a fancy tea or perhaps a small cafe. He could help them pick out presents or decorate a tree in his apartment.

 

No. They weren’t his kids.

 

He pet Honey most of the morning, resigned to the couch. After noon, he ventured back to his room and collapsed under the covers. He dozed through the afternoon, snatches of light from the window pierced his sleep sporadically.

 

Late evening, the door slammed open and Honey burst into his room to join him on the bed. “Babe, are you in here? Honey, can you tell me where Castiel is? Bark twice if you’re with him.”

 

He groped his pillow closer to him and covered his face. Steps edged closer and April dropped onto the bed. “How long have you been home? I didn’t think I came back so late you’d already gone to bed.” She pulled the pillow off his face and he covered himself with his arms. “Did your day not go well?”

 

He pushed himself up against the headboard. Ever since the disastrous “romantic” evening, April flitted between cold shoulder and too close for comfort. Her efforts to find a comfortable spot in their relationship drove him insane. It didn’t help that when he called her the next day she apologized for the surprise, but not the action. Said she would tell him if she would do something like that again. She didn’t get it and he didn’t know how to say it. He held her at arms width, not knowing what she would do next. “No, I didn’t feel well, so I took the day off.”

 

April pressed the back of her hand to his forehead. “You feel hot, but that’s probably because you’ve been under the blankets all day. Would you like me to take care of you?”

 

He cringed. “No thank you. I’d hate for you to get it. I know you’re so busy at work.” He cleared his throat. “Could you get me a glass of water before you leave?”

 

She pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Of course.” She left. He heard the water rush then stop. She padded back in and sat it on the nightstand. “Call me.”

 

“Of course.” He burrowed back under the covers and Honey whimpered from the floor. His stomach gurgled. The moon rose and he made sure his alarm was on before spreading out in the bed.

 

He’d do better tomorrow.

 

-o-O-o-

 

“You should fight back.” Krissy dropped a stack of books on the counter.

 

Dean rearranged the flowers in their vase. “Fight what?”

 

“Milton Books. Are you really going to take it lying down?”

 

He turned towards Kevin. “Is this what both of you think or just her?”

 

Kevin placed _Madeline_ back onto the shelf. “You were really adamant before that you wanted to fight it, but then you stopped. I’m don’t know what you want to do.”

 

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose. “Listen, the last month has sucked, but we’re still here. We’re still going strong. Maybe not as well as this time last year, but we’re not in a dangerous spot yet.”

 

Bobby stuck his head out the office door. “Don’t mind me, the guy doing the math who could give you an answer.”

 

Krissy flung her hands in the direction of Bobby. “See, even the old man agrees.”

 

“Hey, I said I could give you the answers, not that I agreed.”

 

Dean sighed. “If, _if_ , I did fight back would either of you help me or would I just be the crazy man yelling at the Milton Books down the block.”

 

“Hey, it was my idea, of course I would help you. I’ve got friends that could picket the store if you wanted. One of my friends has way to many craft supplies and could make signs for us.”

 

“Kevin?”

 

“Pamphlets and fliers are easy to hand out. Around the store, maybe at some campuses? College students can be sentimental.”

 

“Fine. You can tell me your ideas, but please write them down or I will forget. Now get out of the shop. You’re young. It’s Friday. Do something with your night.” He nudged Krissy and Kevin to the door and waved them out.

 

“You sure about fighting back, boy?” asked Bobby.

 

Dean sat down and played with the petals on the flowers. “I’m thinking about it.” He turned to Bobby. “What would Mom do?”

 

“Hm.” He stared up at the ceiling. “Mary, what should we do?”

 

“Bobby —”

 

“Hush, I’m talking to your Mama.”

 

Dean shifted in his chair. He couldn’t deny he did the same sometimes. A lot more frequently lately than before all of this shit started.

 

Bobby snorted. “Yeah, yeah, I got it.” He faced Dean. “One, Mary says she loves you. Two, she says exactly what I said earlier: do what makes you happy. If fighting for her legacy does, do it. If closing shop to pursue your dreams will make you happy, do it. Your Mama didn’t want you to shackle yourself to this store out of guilt or some missed place idea that it would keep her alive. She’s always wanted you to follow your dreams. So, what feels right to you?”

 

Dean scanned the shop floor. Books back on shelves, some scattered on the kid’s sized tables. The reading corner with the colorful rug and comfy pillows. Most importantly behind him, the small picture of his mom watching the daily operations. “I think I’ll fight.”

 

“You sure?”

 

“Yeah, I wanna give this shop a chance. I know you and everyone else are concerned I’m gonna let it get to me, but it already has. If I don’t fight for it I’m always going to wonder if fighting would have kept the store open. If I fight I know I’ll have done everything in my power to keep the store open. And if we close, then we close. It’ll suck, a lot, but doing nothing guarantees the store’s closure.” Dean wet his lips. “I think it’s what my mom would have done. Fight for as long as she could and if it looked like it wasn’t going to work, make sure she could keep spreading her magic and love until the doors closed for the last time.” He snorted. “Jesus, I’m getting all sappy. Okay, I think that’s enough for one day. I’ll get the suggestions from Krissy and Kevin tomorrow. See what Charlie can do tonight.”

 

Bobby stood up and clapped his shoulder. “I think you’re doing the right thing.”

 

Dean relaxed his shoulders, let the tension out. “I think so too.”

 

-o-O-o-

 

Subject: Advice

From: ImpalaGuy

To: NYC418

 

Ugh, I feel like I’m about to make a bad decision, but I can’t really go into the details because it breaks our no family, no names, no jobs clause.

 

ImpalaGuy

 

Re: Advice

From: NYC418

To: ImpalaGuy

 

You could give me a few specifics, like which realm it’s in. Without that I can only give you the vague “go with your gut advice.”

 

NYC418

 

Re:Re: Advice

From: ImpalaGuy

To: NYC418

 

Job. I run a business and I’m not sure if my next move will be the best. Other people will be affected by my decision. I was confident before, but now I’m afraid that the people around me are biased, you know? Got any sage words of wisdom to share?

 

ImpalaGuy

 

Re:Re:Re: Advice

From: NYC418

To: ImpalaGuy

 

I actually do have some “sage words of wisdom.” The thing about business is that it’s too easy to put yourself out there as the person you are when you’re at home. Don’t show them your true self. They don’t need to know and they don’t deserve to see it anyway. It’s not personal, it’s business.

 

-o-O-o-

 

Charlie rushed behind the counter and pushed towards Dean. “Look, I got Cassie to write that article for you.”

 

Dean grabbed the paper from her and glanced over it. An op-ed, so no interview  — thank God — but he liked it. Cassie did ask him a few questions and spent some time observing the store. A skim through the article showed it and it made his stomach knot in nervousness, but also appreciation: the love he put into the store sparked off the page.  “Thanks. But shouldn’t you be at work? Nine to five and all that?”

 

“You’re kidding me? You could use the extra set of hands here. I’ve got a couple sick days that I’ve got aside for non-sick emergencies. I can handle a register. Call it — research. This is a children’s bookstore, I work in children’s publishing. How am I supposed to find out the latest trends and what the public wants if I never interact with them?”

 

“I don’t know, go to meetings, analyze sales, ask a big author to write something —”

 

“You’re terrible.”

 

“Ah, you love me.”

 

Charlie pulled her hair up in a ponytail and took over the register from Krissy with a tap on her shoulder. Krissy wiggled through the after school patrons towards Dean. She snatched the paper from him and scanned. “This is good. Plus, we’ve got the picketing Saturday, so this is going to be great exposure for us this week.”

 

He took it back and folded it up, shoved it into his back pocket. “That’s great kiddo, now go check shelves.”

 

She rolled her eyes and turned towards the shelves. The phone behind the counter rang. “I got it.” He dashed behind and picked up on the third ring. “Shop Around the Corner, Dean speaking.”

 

“Charlie said your fighting with Milton Books? What’s going on over there?”

 

Sam. He leaned against the wall. “Dude, aren’t you at work?”

 

“Yeah, but I’d like to know when my brother is taking on a major corporation. I knew you said they were close, but you really weren’t kidding. That’s like pissing on your territory.”

 

“It’s why we’re fighting back so hard. So far, so good. I don’t know what kind of ideas Charlie is filling your head with, but we’re not getting crazy or anything. Just making waves, staking claims. “

 

Sam snorted. “More like giving the man the middle finger. Which was her explanation by the way.”

 

“Of course it was.”

 

“If you need any help let me know. I won’t be able to do much out here, but I’ll be coming in for the holidays if you need help then. And you can always call me if you need to unload. I’ve got your back.”

 

“Thanks. I think I really needed to hear that from you.”

 

“I get it. Whatever you do, Mom would be proud. And I’m proud of you to. Keep me updated though! I don’t want to have to hear on the news that you got arrested in front of Milton Books.”

 

“That would never make it across the coast. It’d totally stay local.”

 

Sam snorted. “Okay, okay. I should probably get going.”

 

“Yeah, thanks for checking in.” Dean rubbed the back of his neck.

 

“Of course.”

 

They said goodbye and Dean placed the phone back in the cradle. He popped into the office where Bobby sat, glasses perched at the end of his nose. “How’s it looking, old man?”

 

He grunted. “Better than last week. I’d say there’s some merit to this plan.”

 

“But is it at target with this time in the past?”

 

“No.”

 

Dean sighed. “Well, we’ll keep doing our best. Thanksgiving’s in two weeks and that’s the real test. Hopefully we’ll keep on track with our holiday sales.”

 

“We’ll just have to wait and see.”

 

Kevin poked his head into the office and wiggled the phone. “It’s channel three. They want to know if you’ll do an interview during the picket. They’re putting together a story.”

 

“Shit, I’ve got it. Thanks.”

 

-o-O-o-

 

If Castiel had his way he’d run through a nature walk or through a park, not in an overcrowded and sweaty gym. Unfortunately, Meg told him if he wanted her as moral support she would only run in a gym. Still, the beat against the treadmill beat out the circling worries. The Shop Around the Corner turned out to be a splinter under his skin he hadn’t plucked out yet. And if anyone thought he’d let Dean Winchester get away with it, they’d be wrong.

 

“You’re speeding up over there.”

 

He slowed down and glanced over at Meg who paced at a leisurely walk. “Normally the nature calms me, but there is nothing calming about this gym setting.”

 

She shrugged her shoulders. “I’m not the one who picked the membership here.”

 

“I’m starting to regret this. I should have gone to my yoga class.”

 

“Yeah, I wouldn’t have gone to that with you.”

 

He punched the speed down two notches and adjusted. It would be fine. Deep breaths, keep stride and pace.

 

“Shit,” she hissed and punched his shoulder.

 

“What?”

 

She pushed his face towards the lines of televisions. Images of the front of Milton Books flashed by along with the picketers in front. Cut to a shot of Dean Winchester himself addressing the crowd. “Milton Books is only a corporate entity with no heart here. Do we want the neighborhood to lose it’s locally owned shops and business to make way for corporations? Or do we want to keep businesses local? Do you want to save The Shop Around the Corner?” The crowd cheered.

 

A voice over. “Castiel Novak, member of the Milton family and executive of Milton Books east coast, had this to say.”

 

Cut to his interview. “Milton Books is here to provide discount books in a wide range of genres for a wide range of ages.”

 

Cut to the reporter’s sign off.

 

He punched end. “Son of a bitch.”

 

“Jesus, did you really say that.”

 

“No. Well, technically yes. I said so much after that about building a community and creating spaces for engaging in literature. And it’s all gone.” He set off the treadmill and sped walk.

 

“Wait for me, you idiot.” Meg’s footsteps slapped beside him. “So they cut your interview down. It’s expected. They can’t make the big, scary, corporate guy look good next to the cute, small business owner. Who runs a _children’s_ bookstore, for Christ’s sakes.”

 

He stopped. “Is that what they really think of me? That I’m just a big, scary, corporate guy?”

 

“Uh, yeah.” She dragged him towards the shake and juice booth. “Were you not aware of that?”

 

“No.”

 

“You’re a beast at meetings and relentless with other execs. Some of them look like they’re gonna pee their pants when you walk in.”

 

“I didn’t realize. I thought I was too soft.”

 

“Too soft? You’re like block soap that looks soft and silky, but is actually a brick.”

 

He shuffled and dropped his gaze. “My parents always gave me the impression I couldn’t do any of this without their prodding and meddling. I assumed I was a weak leader.”

 

She grabbed his face and made him look her in the eye. “Listen, your parents have done a number on you. You are capable. You are a leader. You just don’t know how you command your presence. The guys would probably appreciate if you ease off their asses.” They were at the front of the line and Meg ordered for them. “I didn’t know things were that bad.” She snorted. “Should’ve known.”

 

“Do you need a Kleenex? You keep sniffling.”

 

“It’s derision, not snot. I’m just surprised by my own lack of foresight is all.”

 

The barista called their names and Meg handed him his drink. Lots of chocolate. And peanut butter. “Well, you knew my parents have never been exactly warm.”

 

“Yeah, but I thought you at least knew the way you acted. I thought it was deliberate, trying to make your mark in the Milton empire.”

 

He swirled his straw. “I do want to. There’s a lot of pressure to meet my parents expectations. I don’t think I mature past childhood in that department. I just didn’t realize I was such an assbut about it.”

 

“Now you know. You gonna change anything about that?”

 

“I’m not sure. Obviously it’s worked this far, but is that the kind of person I want to be? Like my parents?” A pause. “Like my mother?”

 

“This might be a bit too heavy for a gym.”

 

“You’re right. Thank you for keeping me company today.”

 

“Shucks, Clarence, you sure know how to woo a girl.”

 

He nudged her shoulder. “You’re a good friend.”

 

“Ugh, stop. You’re too sappy.”

 

-o-O-o-

 

Subject: Holidays

From: NYC418

To: ImpalaGuy

 

I might have been too eager saying I loved New York in the fall. I do, but I think the holiday season is just as good (dare I say better). Perhaps, because it feels like we culturally put on rose colored glasses and put aside differences for about two months before tearing into each other again. That’s cynical and probably most directly influenced by my family, but the air of coziness and camradire the holidays bring about is entirely worth it. It’s also the only time of the year any home cooked meal makes its way into my home. I can’t say I’m the cook — and my baking is worse — but after takeout and restaurants the rest of the year, it’s nice to stay in and eat. Currently, my fridge has last night’s Thai and ketchup. Honey, however, is content the entire year until the holidays. Too much stimulation probably, but she’s a hyperactive mess. I love her dearly, but barking at four in the morning is terrible.

 

NYC418

 

Re: Holidays

From: ImpalaGuy

To: NYC418

 

I get it about holidays. I’m a family guy, so I can’t get too cynical. You know those images of the family around the fire and everyone looks happy? That’s my family for the most part. Sure we can fight or whatever, but mostly we’re kidding around. My little brother and I have been rough housing for years. It just looks worse when you’re both over 6’. I’m glad you’re getting some home cooked meals. I don’t think it’s terrible you don’t have them throughout the year — some of us are busy and I’m sure you’re one of them — but there’s something about home cooked meals during the holidays that feels required. My oven and stove top are gonna have a work out in the next two months, but it’s gonna be so good. (And it will not end with a New Year’s resolution to lose weight. NY resolutions never work. Everyone puts in effort for about the first month and then they drop it. And the ads for it are so annoying. Yes, I know it’s a new year, but I’d rather make a new me in March so I can come out of hibernation like bears). I wish I could send some cookies your way. Or brownies. Fudge, mmm. I might need to go make a shopping list.

 

ImpalaGuy

 

Re:Re: Holidays

From: NYC418

To: ImpalaGuy

 

Your family sounds lovely (I say that as if the idea of you and your brother tussling in any way reflects a peaceful and “lovely” image.) Ours is a buttoned up affair. The youngest will showcase any skills they’ve learned over the year. The adults discuss business. Everything seperated and neat. No mess or fuss. We are more like the images you see in pictures, but we never break the appearance. Always poised as if the picture will be taken any second. Though the youngest have challenged the norm lately. Perhaps I’ll join them at the kids table this year instead of sitting with the adults. Lord knows the conversation will at least be a bit more stimulating.

 

NYC418

 

ImpalaGuy: Who uses the word ‘tussle’?

 

NYC418: I do

 

ImpalaGuy: Dork

 

-o-O-o-

 

His walk towards the subway. His favorite coffee shop. Even as he stepped out of Milton Books. Dean Winchester was everywhere. After the news segment he had seen a slight rise in hostility towards the store. That slight rise in hostility being the picketers outside the store front. Catchy chant, but otherwise a limited annoyance. They didn’t block the doors and didn’t bother the customers. If there had to be a protest against his store, he could handle this.

 

Not Dean Winchester, however.

 

It irritated him. For years, he saw no hide or hair of him. To be fair, he hadn’t become a permanent fixture until eighteen months ago as the store conceptualization began. Now he couldn’t go three days without seeing the man sometime while he was out and about. He wanted to hide in his office or his apartment to avoid him.

 

He could approach him, but he didn’t want to come off as accusatory. He wanted — he wasn't sure. But he didn’t want to squabble with him like children. The revelation about his corporate personality made him stumbled. Meg worked with him, clarified what she meant, and it was — eye opening. He knew change wouldn’t happen in a day. It would be a long road to becoming the person he thought he was, and that’s not to say he would drop his entire corporate personality, but he wanted to be better. And being self-aware is the first step.

 

He stepped into the grocery store and calmed. Paper turkeys hung from the ceiling and hurried customers sped past. So close to Thanksgiving, it’s a wonder he had not been shoved where he stood. He grabbed a basket and walked close to the edges. Mothers strode past, kids trailed behind or shrieked from the children’s seat.

 

Eggs. Sugar. Flour. What else went into making cookies? Maybe he shouldn’t make cookies for Thanksgiving. Wait until Christmas instead. He would have an extra month to prepare, make sure he had all of the supplies and ingredients. Perhaps he could ask ImpalaGuy for help. He was obviously well-versed in the art of holiday baking, whereas he had no skill in it whatsoever. However, it meant he had to return the items. He pushed through the crowd towards the baking aisle and stopped.

 

Dean Winchester.

 

He looked at the back of — something. His lack of baking skills told him it was a bar of chocolate, but what would that be doing in the baking aisle and not in candy? Or at the front of the store? It didn’t matter. What was important was that Dean didn’t see him. A confrontation in the grocery store was the worst outcome he could think of happening. He bypassed the aisle. He could buy what he had now and leave. They were basics. He could use them for something else. Only the eggs were perishable anyway. He hurried to the front and hoped Dean would be preoccupied long enough so he could leave unnoticed.

 

-o-O-o-

 

Dean could live without the extra people at the grocery store. That’s what he got though for his last minute trip for baking chocolate. Charlie blew into the kitchen and requested his dark chocolate cake with puppy eyes. Like he could say no to her puppy eyes. He couldn’t say no to Sam or her. Which left him, literally hours before Thanksgiving began, in the hellish grocery store. He browsed through the baking chocolate, he had to find the right cocoa percentage. And his brand was on sale. At least there was a bright spot to this trip to Hell.

 

He made his way to the front, suffered through the line, and stepped back into the cold. Right into someone. He jostled backward and flung his arms out to stay balanced. The other person was bent over, a few groceries tossed. “I’m so sorry dude. Need help?”

 

They turned around. Castiel Novak. Castiel’s eyes widened and he cleared his throat. “Um.”

 

He rolled his eyes and crouched down. “Look, I know I’ve probably been a pain in the ass to you, and honestly you’re still kinda on my shit list, but it’s not beneath me to help a guy out.” He picked up the bundle of vegetables and bag of flour. “Good thing it didn’t burst. That would’ve sucked.”

 

Castiel held up a dented carton of eggs. “I think they’ve already suffered the most.”

 

“Shit. Look I’m sorry.”

 

“I’m sure you are.”

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

 

“No, God no, that’s not what I meant.” He stood up. “It’s been recently been pointed out to me I’m prone to putting my foot in my mouth.”

 

“That’s good?”

 

“Yes, I think so. I had gotten a bit blind to my daily interactions. I know I’ve been less than hospitable to you. If there’s anything I could do to make it up, let me know.”

 

Okay, from anyone else Dean could accept that. But this was the guy who was currently pushing him towards closure. He snorted. “Yeah, I don’t think you’re gonna close your store any time soon. Thanks, but no thanks.”

 

Castiel bristled. “I’m trying to be nice.”

 

“And I don’t want your charity.”

 

He sighed. “ I— I don’t know what to do. I don’t think there’s anyway I can talk to you without setting you off.”

 

“It’s simple. I want to run my store. Unlike you, I can’t solve all my problems by waving money at it.”

 

Castiel pulled his groceries closer to his chest. “Dean, I’m not apologizing for my success. It’s business, not personal.”

 

Dean felt hot. He should have ended this conversation after a quick sorry. Now he was an ass and so was Castiel. Jesus, what a mess. “Just fuck off.” He shoved his hands in his pocket and stormed away.

 

What an asshole.

 

The problem being, he was probably the asshole. He got where Castiel came from — he put his foot in his mouth before — but Castiel seemed to have everything figured out and then kept doing it. He looked upset when he stormed out, but it wasn’t his job to make sure Castiel Novak was happy and well adjusted. That was his wife or whoever. He didn’t even know if the guy was married. Probably was — as much as he hated the guy he had to admit he looked good. She had gone to Billie’s release party — May? No, April. Castiel would go home, a bit disgruntled. A nice dinner would be at the table. No kids, but maybe a dog eager to see his owner. April would listen to his day, soothe him, relax him. After dinner, they would go back to their bedroom and she’d know just where to put her hands, her lips, to make him come undone.

 

Wow.

 

Where had that come from?

 

Dean shook his head. He had a turkey thawing in his sink to attend.

 

-o-O-o-

 

Subject: Christmas Cookies

From: NYC418

To: ImpalaGuy

 

You wouldn’t happen to have any cookie recipes that you know work? I’ve tried a couple already and they haven’t worked. Before you make the joke: I’m sure some “user error” is at play. However, I’m tired of hearing the smoke alarm go off and I’m sure my neighbors would appreciate any help you can lend me.

 

NYC418

 

Re: Christmas Cookies

From: ImpalaGuy

To: NYC418

 

Hell yeah, I’ve got loads of cookie recipes. Anything specific? Baking’s my favorite part about the holidays, but it’s better when you’re doing it with other people. My mom used to make Christmas cookies with me and my brother. Now I make them with my roommate, though she mostly spends her time sneaking the dough and putting on sprinkles. Do you want a recipe for dog biscuits for Honey? I actually have one that she might like.

 

ImpalaGuy

 

Re:Re: Christmas Cookies

From NYC418

To: ImpalaGuy

 

Preferably sugar cookies. I’ll be making them with my younger relatives, and while I’m sure they’d love plain chocolate chip, but I’d like to include them in the baking process. Rolling out dough and cutting them into shapes is easy for kids, right? (This being a genuine questions as I don’t spend a lot of time with kids. I would hate for them to get frustrated with something I want them to enjoy.) I did not know homemade dog biscuits were a thing, so I would love if you passed the recipe on to me. Honey doesn’t get too many treats (I can’t take her outside for runs as much as I’d like to), but I think the holidays asks for something more, don’t you think?

 

We didn’t make Christmas cookies in my household, but I was always allowed to pick up one of those tins of shortbread cookies. Other relatives brought homemade cookies when we got together, but I never had the experience of baking, hence my current problems. Thank you for helping.

 

NYC418

 

Re:Re:Re: Christmas Cookies

From: ImpalaGuy

To: NYC418

 

I’m glad to help you with Christmas traditions. Every family has their own thing, so you don’t have to make Christmas cookies. You could always make something else. Me, I’m a pie guy. I always make sure there’s variety for our holiday spreads. I think it’s great you’re getting the kiddos in the kitchen. They should be fine with rolling and cutting if they’re past the toddler stage. If you want the shapes to actually stay the shape you won’t want sugar cookies, but a more stiff cookie. I’ve got both kinds attached if you want to decide. I hope Honey likes the recipe. I’ll admit, I don’t have a dog, so I don’t know if these are any good. I passed the recipe on to my brother for his dog, but I didn’t hear any complaints from either of them, so I’d say they were good.

 

You know I’m here to help whenever you need. Any more questions, just send them my way.

 

ImpalaGuy

 

Attachments: sugarcookies.doc, christmascookies.doc, homemadedogtreats.doc

 

-o-O-o-

 

Dean hummed as he walked up the step ladder to hang lights in the display window. Since Thanksgiving passed, the holiday season officially began. Carols wavered in the background, Krissy had left to pick up treats and Kevin was in storage looking for the lost box of ornaments. Bobby would be back with a tree at some point. Just him and the store. There’s a hush layered over the store that only seems to appear late at night, different from the pre-open quiet. The quiet where he feels closest to his mom.

 

He hooked the lights in the top corners and trailed remains down the edges. Krissy waved at him through the window and hurried inside, a swirl of chill and flurries behind her. “I always forget how cold the first snow is.” She scurried to the counter and sat down the goodies: coffee, hot chocolate, muffins, and cookies.

 

“Jack Frost nipping at your nose?”

 

“More like biting my ass. I almost ate it on some ice coming down the block.” She shucked off her coat, her gloves. “I thought I’d be the last one here. Where is everyone?”

 

“I think I found it,” Kevin’s voice floated, muffled. He emerged from the office with a large cardboard box, a few dents in the side. “If this isn’t the right box I have no idea what’s in here or where the right box is.”

 

Dean stepped down from the ladder. “It could be at my place. If that’s the case I can always call Charlie to bring it over. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

 

Kevin sat the box down on a chair and opened it. “We’ve got decorations.” He pulled out a strand of tinsel garland and wrapped it around his neck like a feather boa. “Thank God. I was done looking in storage. Dean, how did you even get that much junk back there? It’s already pretty small.”

 

“Pride, stubbornness, can do attitude.”

 

A loud bang on the door. Krissy rushed from the counter. “I’m coming, Christ on a cracker.” She opened the door and Bobby lurched in, a small tree in tow. “It’s so small.”

 

“That’s what you get when none of you rugrats come with me to help carry it. Besides, it’ll still fit in the window display.” He wiggled it into the tree stand and fanned out the limbs.

 

Dean clapped his shoulder. “Thanks, go warm up. You’re cold and the coffee’s not getting any hotter.”

 

Bobby grunted. “Sure, kid.”

 

Krissy and Kevin wound the tinsel garland around the limbs, ignoring the strand of lights Dean had ready to go on the table. “Hey, lights.”

 

“Ugh, mood killer.” Krissy tickled him with the end of the tinsel garland.

 

“No, I’m an organizer. I promise after the lights are up I don’t care how you decorate. Take some of your final stress out on the tree.”

 

Kevin popped around the tree. “I have my finals schedule. I left it on the counter.”

 

“Did you also pick your day off for studying?”

 

“Dean —”

 

“I remember how hard Sam used to study. You could use the day, so take it. If it wigs you out so much you can come in for a couple of hours. Trust me, after finals you’ll be plenty busy.”

 

“Thanks, Dean.”

 

“No problem, kid.” He leaned against the countertop. The cookies did look good. He snagged a snickerdoodle and bit off half.

“What’s your game plan after the new year?” asked Bobby.

 

“I’m working on it. Once I’ve got everything figured out, you’ll be the first to know. Should be able to give you the answer in a week or so. Just enjoy tonight.” He brushed crumbs off his face. “This is my favorite tradition.”

 

“Yeah, you kids like it.”

 

He frowned. “Well Bobby, if you don’t like it you don’t have to stay.”

 

He bumped his shoulder against Dean’s. “Never said that.”

 

Dean got the edges of a smile under Bobby’s mustache. “Sure, you softie.”

 

The glass on the store’s door rattled. Dean pushed away from the counter and peeked through the door: Pamela Barnes. “Pam, what the hell are you doing out here. Freezing your ass off for fun?”

 

“Mmm, sounds like fun. You wanna join me?”

 

“Wish I could, but I gotta stay put. Supervising and all.”

 

She peeked in and waved at Krissy and Kevin. “Looks like you got a full house. I wasn’t even sure if you’d still be here or not. I called Charlie and she said you’d be here.”

 

“C’mon in. Won’t have you getting frostbite on our account.”

 

“I’m just passing through, but I heard about your store. If there’s anything I can do, let me know. Signings, protests, riots, you know I can deliver.”

 

He rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s nice of you to offer, but I don’t think we’re looking to go that drastic.”

 

She patted his cheek. “I know, hun, but you never know. Anything, anything at all, you let me know.”

 

“I will. Stay warm.”

 

She grinned. “I’ll be plenty hot.” She waved and blew away with the snow.

 

“Shut the damn door. Letting all the cold in.”

 

“That was a blast to the past,” muttered Krissy.

 

Kevin threw a paper ornament at her. “You said it. I though Pamela was still in Paris?”

 

“Me too, but you know how she is. In for a second, out the next. She’s got wheels for feet,” added Bobby.

 

“Nice of her to offer to help the store.” Kevin adjusted the tree skirt.

 

Krissy grinned. “You know she just wanted to see Dean’s ass.”

 

Dean put his hands on his hips. “Hey, she can do both, Pamela is a great multi-tasker.”

 

Bobby sat the pastry box down and took the ornament Kevin held out to him. “She’s a smooth talker. Might be good to chip-in her offer.”

 

“I’ll think about it.” Dean grabbed the store and pushed the ladder over. “I’ve got the star.” He blew dust off the gold gilded edges and placed it on the top. “There, perfect.”

 

-o-O-o-

 

“You’ll be at family Christmas, right Cas?” Claire held her hands out and took the clean dish from Castiel to dry.

 

He frowned. “I am every year. Did someone tell you I wouldn’t?”

 

“April. She said you’d be with her parents.” She shrugged. “She told Nanny Tess when she visited your parents.”

 

Castiel pulled his hands from the sink and dried them off. “When did you get so mature?”

 

She made a face. “I’m almost ten, Castiel. I know things.”

 

Ah, the wisdom of nine year olds. “Well, I’ll be at Christmas, you can guarantee. I won’t leave you alone with just the stuffy adults and Jack.”

 

“You’re an adult.”

 

Ouch. They were making teenagers sooner and sooner. He grabbed the mixing bowl and set it in the water. “I’d like to think I’m different.”

 

“I never said you were stuffy.” She turned around and glanced towards the living room. “When will Jack wake up?”

 

“Your guess is good as mine. He is only five, Claire. Don’t they have naptime in kindergarten?”

 

“Yeah.” She added the mixing spoon onto her pile of dry dishes.

 

“We’ve done a lot today: put up the decorations, put the ornaments on the tree, and we made cookies. He’ll be up by the time we decorate them.” He put the last clean dish in the rinse water and handed it to Claire. He stepped behind her to take the stack of utensils back in their proper spots. “I’ve appreciated all of your help today. Have you gotten to decorate at your home?”

 

“Some. Mom let me put up decorations in my room and in our hallway. Not in the sitting room or public hallways where guests can see.”

 

He cringed. Good to know her mother was cut from the same cloth as his. Well, it could be OCD or some other kind of condition. Or not. It was hard figuring out which part of him was the asshole and which part the guy who invited his relatives (they’re not his niece and nephew, but it felt more like that then his brother and aunt) over for holiday decorating. Was that even okay? They had their own lives. They might not turn out like his.

 

“Cas?”

 

“Sorry, just thinking. Is your Mom like that a lot?”

 

She shrugged. “Depends.” She stepped up on the footstool to put up the bowls.

 

That was all he was probably going to get out of her. And he shouldn’t meddled anyways.

 

“Castiel? What’s that smell?” April slipped into the kitchen, heels in her hands. “Hey there, Claire.”

 

“Hi, April.” She shuffled past and went into the living room.

 

Castiel crossed his arms. “Cookies. I asked the kids if they wanted to come over. They’re in the oven right now.”

 

She sat her heels and purse on the floor and slid towards him. “I thought you couldn’t cook?”

 

“I got advice.”

 

She wrapped her arms around his neck and snuggled close. “In five years, this could be us. Kids would be younger, but it’d be like this.” She kissed his neck and stepped away. “It’s a nice feeling.”

 

He didn’t know what to say. With the romantic dinner swept away, he had no way to broach any serious conversation with her. And he was scared. He laughed — more nervous than mirth. “Isn’t it a bit early.”

 

“I’ve past thirty. I’ve gotta start thinking about it if I want to have them.”

 

He peeked into the oven. Stil soft, no crispy edges. “I hear we’re going to your parents’ for Christmas.”

 

She brightened. “You’ll love it. We have a huge tree and a roaring fire. So much food you’ll burst. Our gift exchange is pretty hilarious.”

 

“It sounds nice, but I didn’t know you’d already made the decision of where we’d go for the holidays.”

 

“Well, we had a work Thanksgiving. I thought you didn’t like your parents anyway?”

 

She wasn’t wrong. “I’m indifferent, but you didn’t ask.”

 

“They were all smiles when I told them. They were more than happy for you to join me with my family.”

 

“It’s because they’re hoping I’ll propose to you.”

 

Her eyes twinkled. “Are you?”

 

Oh no. “April, it’s too soon.”

 

“We’re over thirty and we’ve been dating for almost a year. Lots of people would say that’s about time.”

 

“Don’t you think that’s rushing?”

 

“Honestly, no. You’ve got a lot of hang-ups, Castiel. No sex, no moving-in — at least permanently — and now are you even thinking of a future with me? Or are you going to string me along?”

 

“April, the kids —”

 

“Don’t change the subject.”

 

He sighed and gripped her shoulders. “When I started dating you, the work on the store was just getting underway. I’ve spent so much time on the store, I don’t think I know you well enough like I should. Going into the new year, I want to get to know you better.” He dropped his hand down to hers and squeezed. “I think we have potential, but I won’t know until I _really_ know you. I know that doesn’t sound ideal, but it’s the honest answer I can give you now.”

 

April sighed and squeezed back. “You’re right, that we don’t really know each other. Just, don’t give up before you’ve given it your all, okay?”

 

“Okay.” He hugged her and the timer beeped.

  
Claire rushed in with Jack behind. “Cookies done?”

 

He opened the oven and the were golden, the warm butter and vanilla smell drifted out. “Yes they are.”

 

Claire ran to get the aprons he bought them and April smiled across the counter. He could make it work. Besides, it did no good to break up during the holidays. Too many nosy relatives and know it alls to pounce on him when he didn’t show up with April — his mother would be the head of the pack. Good things first: there were cookies to decorate.

 

-o-O-o-

 

Subject: Relationships

From: ImpalaGuy

To: NYC418

 

I know we said no specifics, but the shitty thing about the holidays is that they reinforce how much society plays up the importance of being in a relationships. Not that there’s anything wrong with people who’ve found the one — good for them. But the other three hundred odd days outside of the holiday season (excluding Valentine’s Day, I’ve got a whole other conversation about that) people are all like “it’s fine, you’re improving yourself.” Or “you don’t need someone to complete you.” But the calendar flips and suddenly it’s a crime that you’re not attached to anyone. Excuse you, I’m a functioning person on my own. I buy my own groceries and pay the bills. My existence isn’t decided by my dating status. It’s just, ugh. Sorry for the word vomit.

 

ImpalaGuy

 

Re: Relationships

From: NYC418

To: ImpalaGuy

 

No, I understand. I too have suffered through many an awkward family dinner. I’ve grown quite apt at changing subjects to anything less grating. I don’t think I have much advice though beyond that. I’ve found the mating habits of cats and daily activities of worker bees throw people far from the dating questions. With any luck, you’ll make a convincing case this year to get them off your case or you’ll find someone so they’ll cease their campaign, of course that brings its own set of questions. Much of life’s interactions circles back to well meaning and well intended people. And we all know what the way to Hell is paved with.

 

NYC418

 

Re:Re: Relationships

From: ImpalaGuy

To: NYC418

 

Ha, I don’t think I’ve got any stories like that. What do you even know about the mating habits of cats? I think I’ll just do what I do every year and get wasted. Not a great plan, but works strong after all of these years. Honestly, my friends and family aren’t that bad. They’re just looking out for me. My roommate can be the worst of them, but she’ll protect me from the worst of them too. It just sucks because this year, I really wish I did have someone. This year has been such a mixed bag. I’ve got great friends and family that’ve let me lean on them, but things are different when you're in a relationship. You can be vulnerable in a different way, you know. Maybe I’m getting older and more wistful (who would’ve thought I’d ever use that word), but I’d be nice. Maybe once the new year starts I’ll look into finding someone. God, I’ll be going in with the rest of them. Better to try then give up, right?

 

ImpalaGuy

 

Subject: Self-Care

From: NYC418

To: ImpalaGuy

 

I know this is an abrupt change in pace, but have you discussed self-care with your therapist? Or have they mentioned it? I think you could find some benefits. I don’t want to bog you down with the details in e-mail, but they’ll probably know what I’m talking about. You haven’t mentioned your progress lately (and it’s okay if you don’t want to), but depression and anxiety can worsen during the holidays do to stress, lack of sunshine, societal pressures, and a general fear of missing out. I just want you to know if it gets overwhelming and you don’t feel comfortable telling your family or friends, you can come to me. I know it might be heavy for over the internet, but I care.

 

NYC418

 

Re: Self-Care

From: ImpalaGuy

To: NYC418

 

Thanks, I’ll bring it up next session. And you’re right, it’s been kinda bad. I’ll keep what you said in mind. Hope I won’t drag you down too much. Happy Holidays.

 

ImpalaGuy

 

-o-O-o-

 

Claire plunked out a melody on the piano, much better than she was last year. Jack sat on his lap and wiggled free to rush to the dessert table. She finished and stood up. The adults clapped at broke off into small groups. “That was very nice, Claire.”

 

She shrugged and sat next to him. “It’s okay. I don’t even know if I like piano.”

 

“Well, what would you rather do?”

 

“Kaia does karate. Do you think I could do it with her?”

 

Of course it was Kaia. “You’d have to ask your parents.”

 

Jack returned with a plate of cookies. He held it out to Claire and she smiled. “Thanks.”

 

“Yes, thank you Jack.” He grabbed a gingerbread man.

 

He beamed and sat the plate on the side table so he could sit on the couch. “When will we get to eat?”

 

“Soon, I’m sure. Only eat one cookie right now. Don’t want to fill up before supper. What are you excited to eat?”

 

“Cranberry sauce!”

 

Okay then. “Anything else?”

 

He hummed. “Nougat.”

 

Definitely a sweet tooth. “Very filling. And you, Claire?”

 

“Ham, and potatoes. And the little bread with the topping.”

 

“Bruschetta.”

 

“Bruschetta, then.”

 

“Ahh, if it isn’t my favorite little brothers. And Aunt Claire, you’re looking beautiful as always.”

 

Gabriel dropped a hand on his shoulder. Let the invasive family questioning begin. “Gabriel, good to see you.”

 

“Oh, I’m _Gabriel_ right now. Good to know. If you two could excuse us, we need to talk. I hear if you go into the kitchen you can pull the wishbone.” The kids ran off and he handed him a glass of wine. “You’re probably gonna want this.”

 

He drank half in the first gulp. “You just drop off one day and abandon the family for months. What do you even have to say?”

 

“That I had things to do. You know how it is.”

 

“No, I don’t. Please explain it to me.”

 

Gabriel sighed and tugged him towards the hallway. “Dad had me off out doing some overseas business. I got swamped trying to keep up and honestly forgot it had been months since I’d contacted you. In this case, the only explanation is that I suck. You could have contacted me, though. My Toronto office would have forwarded any message to me. Here I thought you were so wrapped up with the superstore and your lady you forgot. Though based on tonight, I’d say you were only wrapped up in the superstore and not your lady. What gives with April? Every time I saw you two you looked happy.”

 

He finished off the rest of his wine and dangled the glass from the stem. “Happiness can be faked.”

 

“Well, that’s a fucking downer. Why you still with her?”

 

“She makes mother and father happy. I think she genuinely likes me and I can tolerate her.”

 

“Tolerate, really know how to make a girl swoon.”

 

He glared. “At this point, tolerate is what I can expect. I don’t think they’ll approve of anyone else I would choose.”

 

“You realize you don’t _have_ to pick someone they approve. There’s this radical idea you can follow your heart.”

 

He hugged his arms. “You know I can’t do that.”

 

“Okay, I’m gonna ignore any kind of backward reasoning that got you to that conclusion for a second. I’m not gonna tell you that no matter what you choose they’ll love you, because there’s a hot chance they probably won’t. But you’ve got to decide whose happiness matters to you more: theirs or yours.” He punched his shoulder. “And if you don’t say yours we’re gonna be having a longer conversation.”

 

“It’s hard.”

 

“You gone back to therapy since undergrad.”

 

“No.”

 

“Might want to look into that again. Just a thought.” He patted his back and stepped away. “Dinner’s probably ready.”

 

Castiel watched Gabriel leave and stayed leaned against the wall. His mother stepped out of the sitting room and smiled. “I was surprised April came with you. I thought you were going to her parents?”

 

“Change of plans.”

 

“That’s okay, dear. She’s lovely. Do tell me before you propose. I’d like to get a head start on the wedding arrangements.” She patted his cheek. “You look good with the kids. I’m excited for grandkids. God know I’ll never get any from Gabriel.” She dropped her hand. “Come join us in the dining room.”

 

He gripped the stem of his wine glass. “Of course.”

 

April appeared from the dining room doorway. “Babe, I’ve saved a seat next to me.”

 

The kids’ table was more and more appealing. “Coming.” April waited in the doorway for him, balanced on her tallest heels, her dress swished and shimmered.

 

She tugged him by the labels when he was in reach and pointed above. “Mistletoe.” She trailed her hands up to the nape of his neck and leaned in. It was brief, no sordid affair, definitely no tongue. Sweet and dry, but he felt nothing. “Let’s go in. The duck looks amazing.”

 

The dining room was warm, candles lit, table heavy. Jack grabbed the edge of his blazer. “I got the wishbone!”

 

“Well, what did you wish for?”

 

“I can’t tell you or it won’t come true.”

 

“You’re right. Now go sit down so you can eat.”

 

“Okay.”

 

Castiel sat down at the table. April brush her hand over his arm. Mother and father beamed from the end of the table. Gabriel shook his head.

 

-o-O-o-

 

Krissy and Kevin sat at the piano, plunking at the keys. She laughed, a bit tipsy, and guided Kevin’s fingers through the melody. “Ready?”

 

“Ready.” They stumbled through the intro and built to the verse. “The violin sings with joyful ring. The violin sings with joyful ring.”

 

Dean slung his arms around Sam and Charlie. God were they close to wasted, but this was his family — red-faced and smiling. If it wasn’t tradition, none of them would remember the words, but they stumbled through the clarinet and Charlie belted out the horn line before they chased into the round. They clapped when they finished and Krissy and Kevin switched to carols. A bit off beat and tune, but still recognizable. For the most part. He needed to leave before anyone started singing. He pulled on his beer and tapped Sam’s shoulder. “Can I talk with you?”

 

Sam beamed. “Sure.”

 

They opened the window and crawled out onto the fire escape. The snow flurries swirled and stung his cheeks. Too cold to be out for long, but he hoped it wouldn’t be a long conversation. “How’s Cali? I’m surprised you didn’t bring Jess with you.”

 

Sam fidgeted and tapped his beer against the railing. “We broke up.”

 

He leaned forward and hugged him. “That sucks.”

 

He shrugged. “I think it was a long time coming. We were good during undergrad, but we’ve got different ambitions. We’re still good friends. Get together every now and then for coffee and catch up. She’s moving to Colorado after the new year. Got a job lined up at an art place with an old friend of hers — Sarah I think.”

 

“How long you guys been split up?”

 

“Almost two months? Don’t give me that look, I know you’ve been busy with the store.”

 

“Doesn’t mean I don’t want to know what’s going on in your life. There’s always going to be room in my life for you.”

 

“Well, I’m glad because there was one reason I waited to tell you. I put in a job offer here and I got accepted. I’ll be starting in January.”

 

“That’s great.” He finished off his beer. He needed to tell Sam before they froze out here. “I know this isn’t ideal after all your great news, but I’m closing the store.”

 

Sam smiled softly. “I figured.”

 

“I’ve already told Bobby. I’ll be telling Krissy and Kevin after the holidays. I stopped putting in orders last week, so what we’ve got and the few shipments I have left will be it. I’ll announce to the public after the new year.” A tear fell on his hand. “God, I didn’t think I’d cry.”

 

“The store’s important to you. It’s your connection to Mom. And if you need to hear it from me, it’s okay you’re closing the store. I’m not gonna hold it against you.”

 

“Thanks Sammy.” He shivered. “We should probably get back inside. I’m freezing my balls out here.”  
  
Sam laughed and squeezed his large frame through the window. A blast of warm air washed over him and he heard laughter from the living room. He stopped by the kitchen to grab a beer and joined the group in the living room. A round of charades had sprouted while they were gone and Charlie was miming out — something.

 

Kevin jumped from his seat. “Mermaid? Dolphin? Siren? Give me something to work with.” Charlie shook her head and held up one finger. “One word.” She rotated her fist in a circle. “Oh, oh, oh, movie. I missed that. But is it still a mermaid?” She nodded. “Oh, oh, OH, OH, Tom Hanks, Tom Hanks, SPLASH.”

 

Charlie clapped and nodded. “Thank God. I thought you would never get it.”

 

He angled his wine glass in her direction. “To be fair, I am — very drunk.”

  
Dean leaned over and took his glass. “That’s enough for you. Char, can you get him a water.”

 

“Sure thing.”

 

She disappeared into the kitchen and Kevin sat down next to him. “You’re great, Dean.”

 

He patted his back. “I know kid. We’ll call your Mom to let her know you’ll be here for the night.”

 

“But I gotta be back for dinner tomorrow. I can’t miss Christmas dinner. She’s gonna freak.”

 

“She’s not gonna freak. She knows where you are and trusts me. She’ll be glad you stayed here. And if there’s any problem I can explain.”

 

Charlie came back and handed Kevin a large glass. “Trust me, Dean will get you right as rain. There’s a big, greasy breakfast in your future. New drinkers, never know where your limit is yet. You’re up Bobby and Krissy.” She turned towards Dean. “You and Sam wanna get in?”

 

“Sure, we’ll get in next round.”

 

Bobby leaned over the couch. “You tell Sam yet?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

He ruffled his hair. “You’re doing the right thing, boy.”

 

“I know, Bobby. I know.” He nudged Kevin and he groaned. “I know, kid. Your morning’s gonna suck.”

 

“It was good wine. I stand by my decision.”

 

Charlie grabbed a hat and held it out towards Krissy. “Pick your charade.”

 

Sam sat down in the armchair and stabbed at his cake. “Where’s Dorothy?”

 

“She went back home this year. We’re gonna spend New Year’s together.” Charlie squeezed into the armchair with Sam and stole a pinch of his cake. “It’s gonna be great. We’re getting the whole group together for a D and D sesh.”

 

Dean leaned back in the couch and made sure Kevin was upright. NYC418 was right, he had a lot of great people to look after him. The next couple months were going to suck, but he had a lot of people looking out for him.

 

Krissy groaned and threw her piece of paper on the ground. “Whoever wrote this one sucks.”

 

The group laughed and Dean felt warm. Yeah, his family was great.

 

-o-O-o-

 

ImpalaGuy: happy new year!!!!11!!!111

 

NYC418: Happy New Year as well

 

NYC418: I’m surprised your still up

 

NYC418: its past two

 

ImpalaGuy: honestly, i’m more surprised you are you seem like the kind of responsible adult to pack it up after old lame zine

 

ImpalaGuy: old lang sine

 

ImpalaGuy: that song hmmmHHMMMmhhhmmmHHMMMMMhmmHHHmmm

 

ImpalaGuy: im very drink

 

NYC418: I see that.

 

NYC418: I’d like to say I’m better, but Im pretty tossed two

 

NYC418: my friend and brother conspored against me

 

NYC418:we  went bar hopping like undergrads

 

NYC418: they’re on my couch

 

NYC418: had to kick my bro off my bed

 

ImpalaGuy: those are the worst words you’ve ever tyepd sober u would haet it

 

ImpalaGuy: god i’m gonna have a headache in the morning

 

NYC418: I’m sure i will

 

NYC418: why do people thikn your lonely if your not fucking someone

 

NYC418: I’m not lonely

 

NYC418: i’ve got friends

 

ImpalaGuy: strong language!!!!!11!!!!!!!1!1!!

 

ImpalaGuy u not lonely got me

 

NYC418: that’s nice but we’re not fucking

 

NYC418: which negates their point

 

ImpalaGuy: who remembers a word like negate drunk

 

ImpalaGuy: we can be

 

NYC418: ???/?////??

 

ImpalaGuy: cybersex

 

ImpalaGuy: you type it

 

NYC418: my friend asked if we had

 

ImpalaGuy: do you want too

 

NYC418: How do you start

 

ImpalaGuy: one sec

 

ImpalaGuy: computer’s real bright

 

ImpalaGuy: its like roleplaying

 

NYC418: aAre you stalling

 

ImpalaGuy: a little

 

NYC418: we don’t have to

 

ImpalaGuy: i wanna

 

ImpalaGuy: Been thinking about it

 

NYC418: oh

 

ImpalaGuy: bad oh or good oh

 

NYC418: good oh

 

ImpalaGuy: k, i’ll start

 

ImpalaGuy: kiss you

 

NYC418: kiss  you too

 

NYC418: Is this weird

 

ImpalaGuy: give it a chance

 

NYC418: k

 

ImpalaGuy: wrap my arms around your waist

 

ImpalaGuy: pull you closer

 

NYC418: are we already on a bed

 

ImpalaGuy: we can be

 

NYC418: thank you

 

ImpalaGuy: what would you do if you had me naked in bed

 

NYC418: i’d caress you, move my mouth over you

 

NYC418: i’d take your cock in my hand

 

ImpalaGuy: mm, yeah, better than what i was doing

 

NYC418: Slowly, just a precursor of what’s to come. Kiss you dirty

 

ImpalaGuy: i’d probably move down so i could blow you, trail kisses from your neck down to your cock

 

ImpalaGuy: means i’d have to give up the handy, but i would for you

 

ImpalaGuy: you should know i spit, not swallow

 

ImpalaGuy: but you’d wear a condom

 

NYC418: noted

 

ImpalaGuy: i’ve been told i have a talented tongue ;)

 

NYC418: I’d like to feel that

 

NYC418: I’d nudged you away before I come so I could wrap our cocks together and jack us off quick and dirty

 

ImpalaGuy: mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

 

NYC418: mmm too bad I interrupted the blow job. I bet you look pretty on your knees

 

ImpalaGuy: ;)

 

ImpalaGuy: okay, so obviously i think we need to work on this

 

ImpalaGuy: and i am decidedly less drunk then I was when we started

 

ImpalaGuy: but goddamn did i need that

 

NYC418: but not bad for a first time?

 

NYC418: i have a similar problem over here

 

NYC418: Thank God for kleenex, right?

 

ImpalaGuy: i don’t think so. Never done it before

 

ImpalaGuy: cybersex

 

ImpalaGuy: i’ve had real sex

 

NYC418: yes, cybersex

 

ImpalaGuy: we’d cuddle after, right?

 

NYC418: I don’t know about you, but I don’t have the energy to move

 

ImpalaGuy: no move

 

NYC418: cuddle away

 

ImpalaGuy: thanks

 

ImpalaGuy: bet it would be nice

 

NYC418: Should we meet?

 

-o-O-o-

 

Castiel paced on the sidewalk.  “I’m an idiot. I’m such an idiot.”

 

“Calm down, you’re only an idiot on Tuesdays. It’s Thursday.” Meg put out her cigarette.

 

“Not funny. Who suggests to meet their online crush after cybersex?”

 

“The same people who say ‘I love you’ during sex.”

 

“Ugh.” He dropped his head against the cool window. It had been two weeks since their New Year’s tryst. He was never going to let Meg and Gabe take him out again. Was this even a good idea? He was still involved with April, right?. He shouldn’t even be here. This was too much, too soon. He should have never even agreed to have sex in the first place. Even if things went well today, _even if_ , he was still him and there was no way he could date ImpalaGuy. Would he even want to?

 

“How will you even know who it is anyway?”

 

“He said he’d wear a leather jacket and have a copy of _Slaughterhouse Five_.”

 

“Boy, you guys sure know how to set the mood.” She pulled a tin of mints from her purse and popped one in her mouth. “Mint?”

 

“No. I should go. I should never have let it get this far.” He turned to walk away and Meg gripped his shoulders.

 

“Okay, one, you’re already here. There’s a chance they’ve walked by. You could’ve seen them. Two, it’s shitty to stand people up, just don’t do it. And three, regardless of how cheesy it sounds, maybe they’re the one. Maybe this is the one person who will put your head on straight and make you realize you need to stop with this whole April thing. Are you even happy with her?”

 

“She’s tolerable.”

 

“That’s bullshit. Are you even happy with her?”

 

“No.” And it was the truth. He’d never been happy with April and he never would be. He felt pushed into the relationship, pushed into giving up, and for once he felt in charge somewhere besides the conference room.

 

She leaned in and angled her face to whisper in his ear. “Castiel, are you gay?”

 

Jesus Christ. “I’m about to meet the man I had cybersex with, of course I’m gay.” What was the relevance? Was there relevance?

 

She scrunched her face. “Then why are you with April?”

 

“Because my parents nudged her my way. And as you and Gabe have put it so eloquently, when it comes to matters involving my parents I’m a dog avoiding a thwack on the nose with a newspaper.”

 

“Okay,” she pulled out a pack and lit a cigarette. “I thought you were bi, Cas. There’s a big difference between the two.”

 

“Obviously.”

 

“No, really. There’s a difference between thinking you’re having a little last hurrah before settling down and being coerced into a marriage you don’t want. I thought you were just unsure about April. You’re okay with her, but you’ve always been an awkward dude. Or that you weren’t a fan of PDA. Why didn’t you tell me?”

 

“Really?”

 

She tapped ash off her cigarette. “Okay, yeah, bad question.”

 

“It’s not like it’s been relevant.”

 

“Well it is now.”

 

“True.”

 

“You’ve gotten yourself into one hell of a mess.”

 

He stared down at the pavement. “I know.”

 

“You’re gonna have to make a decision.”

 

“I know.”  

 

She stared out across the street. “You know, I’m bi.”

 

“You are?”

 

“Yeah, so like, I get it. It’s never really relevant except to the person you’re fucking, you know? It’s one of the reasons I bothered you until we were friends. I saw you eyeing the frat boys on the lawn.”

 

He scoffed. “I was not eyeing them.”

 

“You were this close to full blown elevator look.” She hovered her pointer and thumb over each other. “But you only dated girls in college, so: bi.”

 

“I can see it now.”

 

“Okay, that’s enough touchy feely stuff. We should probably go see if lover boy is in there.”

 

He groaned and buried his head in his arms. “I don’t know if I can look. It’s already been a disaster tonight.”

 

“You know, if after all this time it’s a woman and not a guy your night’s officially in the shitter.”  

 

“Is that a possibility?”

 

“People lie on the Internet.”

 

“I should have never gone in that chat room.”

 

She rolled her eyes. “Let me go check.”

 

He watched Meg approach the cafe window and peek inside. “I don’t see him yet.”

 

“Look harder.”

 

“You know I’m pretty short. Kinda hard to see over people.”

 

He paced. All of the reasons it was a terrible idea tumbled over in his mind. He had a reputation to uphold. His parents, the stockholders, the _public_. Was he even important enough that would be an issue? No, that was a bit of narcissism.  

 

“I think I see him, so definitely a guy. Points for that.”

 

“So he’s there.” He edged closer to the window. Torn between looking and not looking.

 

“Turn — turn — ugh, I just need him to turn to see if he’s got the book.”

 

Screw waiting. “Let me see.”

 

She held her arm out. “No, wait, there — oh shit.”

 

“What do you mean, ‘oh shit’.”

 

She turned to him and leaned against the window. “He’s definitely young. And good looking. So, he’s not some fifty year old.”

 

“Okay, put what’s the problem. Is here there with someone?”

 

“No, no.” She grimaced.

 

“So what’s the problem?”

 

“It’s Dean Winchester.”

 

He stopped. “Dean Winchester?”

 

“Yeah, like ‘Shop Around the Corner’, Dean Winchester. God, you really know how to pick them.”

 

Dean Winchester. ImpalaGuy was Dean Winchester, his online crush. “Should I go in?”

 

“Yes.” She rolled her eyes and pushed him towards the door. “I know you’ve got a spat with him and whatever, but won’t it be worse when he logs onto AOL tomorrow and gets some shitty e-mail about why you weren’t there.”

 

He brushed her away and straightened his coat. “Okay, okay. I’ll do it. You should probably go home. I don’t know how long this will take and I’d hate for you to wait out in the cold.”

 

She squeezed his shoulder. “Good luck.”

 

-o-O-o-

 

Dean tapped his foot and pushed his sleeve back to look at his watch. Twenty minutes past their agreed upon time. He should leave. Obviously he was stood up. It stung, but — no, it hurt and he was allowed to be hurt, dammit. They’d been talking for close to a year now and he thought he was close with NYC418 and yet here he was alone. His coffee was empty, but he didn’t want to get up and lose his seat. Which was ridiculous as the cafe was moderately full, tables and low couches empty. The slice of pie he had was long gone and the temptation to get another one rose. He thumbed through the pages of _Slaughterhouse Five._ It wouldn’t be terrible to just stay and read. Not unlike what he did on nights Charlie wanted to bring Dorothy over to the apartment. It was cozy, warm. Gotta make lemonade somehow.

 

He went up to the counter and ordered another slice of pie and a refill on his coffee. The barista smiled and put extra whipped cream on his pie. Was it that obvious that he was stood up? He dropped his change in the tip jar. If he was going to camp here for a large portion of the night he could at least compensate the staff. He settled down in an armchair instead of the table he originally sat at and snuggled down. Maybe it wasn’t the night he expected, but it would be nice.

 

He flashed the cover of his book out towards the cafe floor. Maybe NYC418 couldn’t see it and didn’t want to come up to him in fear he would be the wrong person. Just another lonely person taking solace in a cafe where you could be around people without interacting with them. Maybe he got caught up in something and was late. He should have taken Charlie’s offer for her to accompany him. She worried that he’d get mugged or murdered. Fair, he only had months and months of conversations to backup the kind of person he thought NYC418 was. But he didn’t want his pseudo sister to crash his date, but she would’ve been good company. (God date, it wasn’t a date it was two internet people who had sex meeting up in real life.) He almost conceded that he’d let her come if she sat out of the way, but decided it would be too much hassle. He did agree he would check in with her so she knew everything was okay, or consequently wrong.

 

“Is this seat taken?”

 

He looked up and there was Castiel Novak, his head inclined towards the empty armchair next to Dean. He hadn’t seen the guy in months and suddenly here he was like the ghost of Christmas present about to show him the sad state of his store. “No.” He nodded and sat down, tea in hand, much to close for his comfort. “What exactly are you doing?” Okay and maybe that was harsh, but he’d already been stood up, he didn’t need his business rival to make a bad evening worse.

 

“I — uh.” He tapped the sides of his cup.

 

“Cause here’s the thing: you’ve won. I’m sure you’ve heard about the store closing already, so I don’t think we have anything left to discuss.”

 

He swallowed. “I, ah, hadn’t heard about your store.”

 

“I’m surprised. Not like you can’t see the signs from across the street.”

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

“Look, it’s business. You don’t have to apologize. It’s all about consumers and supply and demand. We just can’t compete with you.” Okay, so maybe he still had some anger towards Milton Books. He might have made the decision to close the store, and he knew it was the best decision, but he never would have had to until Milton Books moved into his neighborhood. “I’ll miss the regulars, but that’s not something a suit like you would care about.” Castiel flinched. Fuck, that was a low blow. Why did this guy bring out the worst in him? “Dammit, I — that was harsh.”

 

He smiled, small and teasing. “It’s not the worst thing that’s been said about me. I do remember you telling me I hired kids to spy on your store.”

 

“Yeah.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ve been pretty shitty to you. It’s just, it’s frustrating.”

 

He leaned closer. “I’m not going to say I understand, because I can’t — at least not fully, but I at least understand that hollow “I’m sorry’s” aren’t going to help you. And probably nothing I say right now will help while you still hurt.”

 

“Yeah. You’re right there. So what’s brought you here tonight?”

 

He stared out at the cafe, scanning it. “I’m too embarrassed to admit it.”

 

What did an executive for Milton Books have to be embarrassed about? “I promise I won’t make fun of you.”

 

He fidgeted in his seat. “I think I’ll keep it to myself for now. I hope you don’t mind.”

 

“I don’t really know you from Adam, so it’s not like there’s a whole lot of people I can spill your secrets to.” What good would Castiel’s secret be if he didn’t know anyone in his circle? And it wasn’t like the secret would be something terrible like insider trading or other shady white collar shit.

 

“There is the general public, though I don’t think any mildly embarrassing situations about me would make headlines. I’m not that important.”

 

He shrugged. “The general public doesn’t seem that interested in the lives of mega bookstore executives. They’re more interested in the discounts.”

 

He stared at him. Dean squirmed under his gaze. It was too intense, too intimate, too curious.

 

Castiel stood up and pulled his shoulders in. “I’ll probably see you around.” He walked out of the cafe and left Dean alone again.

 

That was cryptic. He picked up his book and balanced his plate on his lap. Tonight was a disappointment, at least for his social life. Where was NYC418?

 

-o-O-o-

 

Draft: Sorry

From: NYC418

To: ImpalaGuy

 

There’s really no excuse for why I didn’t show up last night. I saw you through the window and panicked. I couldn’t tell you I was the person you were looking for, especially when I know you don’t like me.

 

Saved at 11:56 PM EST

 

Draft: Sorry

From: NYC418

To: ImpalaGuy

 

I’m sorry I didn’t meet with you yesterday. There was a family emergency and I couldn’t get to a computer until today. I wish I had gotten to meet you. Reschedule?

 

Saved at 8:34 AM EST

 

Draft: Sorry

From: NYC418

To: ImpalaGuy

 

Dean, I’m sorry I stood you up. There’s a lot about me that I’m coming to terms with and it’s hard to accept a lot of myself. However, you’re human too and have feelings. They’re probably hurt right now. I can’t take that back, but I can work towards repairing the bridge

 

Saved at 2:12 PM EST

 

Subject: Last Night

From: ImpalaGuy

To: NYC418

 

I don’t know why you didn’t show up last night. Maybe an emergency came up. Maybe you were late and we missed each other. Maybe you decided against it. Maybe you were nervous. It doesn’t matter. I get it. It just didn’t happen.

 

However, instead of you, I met someone who I’ve only interacted with recently and sparingly. And it always ends disastrously. I honestly wish you were there. I finally came up with a come back that 1.) didn’t suck and 2.) actually landed. But when they flinched I felt like shit. I’ve had a stressful last few weeks due to work related issues (issues that this person is related to), but that doesn’t mean they have to be my punching bag. I want to take everything back. And if I’m honest, after reflection, it flared my depression (Is that even the word? Fuck if I know, I’m deep down the hole right now). I’m working, everyday I’m working, but maybe after my work related stress is out of the way and settled I can go back on meds. I stopped before the holidays because it was just too much too fast. I’ve kept up with the sessions, but it doesn’t feel like enough right now. And with my anxiety jostling in the back seat I don’t know when it’ll creep back up.

 

If there’s one thing our conversations do is bring out the better person in me, the exact opposite of the person I’ve been dealing with. If I could mix the two together you’d get a decent person. But they’re both drastic looks at who I am. I know I have problems. I know I’m not perfect. But the in-the-face reminders suck.

 

If you’re done communicating, let me know. I guess you will if you don’t e-mail back.

 

ImpalaGuy

 

Re: Last Night

From: NYC418

To: ImpalaGuy

 

I don’t have a good excuse, nor one I can give you. Understand that it’s no reflection on you, but me. I wish I had been there with you. Difficult people can be hard to deal with, but that’s the problem with witty comebacks: they often hurt the inflictor more than the target. At least in the case when I do it and now, when you do it. Maybe it just means we’re more empathetic, but if we truly were we’d probably not employ them in the first place.

 

I’m sorry to hear you’re not doing well, but as long as you’re open and honest with your therapist you’ll get the best care. Not that I don’t think you aren’t already. I know I can’t do much over the computer, but do you have a fall back plan set up with someone close with you? Perhaps your roommate? Anything to catch you when you find yourself spiraling — I think that’s what you were looking for.

 

But most importantly, I do want to continue. I look forward to your e-mails and I wouldn’t want to lose our friendship due to my error. I hope my misstep won’t be too much to forgive.

 

NYC418

 

Re:Re: Last Night

From: ImpalaGuy

To: ImpalaGuy

 

Yeah, I’m better now than I was when I sent that. My roommate sat me down and we talked, watched a movie, all that. It’s rough, but she’s been through some similar shit, so she gets it. Doesn’t keep me from feeling like an asshole, but it at least helps me work through the _why_ and let me focus on fixing the behavior that got me there in the first place.

 

I could never get rid of you. It means a lot to me to get your e-mails.

 

Pat Honey for me.

 

ImpalaGuy

 

-o-O-o-

 

It was a quiet affair.

 

The last official day was on Friday. Several past customers came in just to say good-bye. People who came in for the discount offered their condolences. Kevin and Krissy handled the purchases while Dean and Bobby packed. Not all of the inventory sold, he expected it, but there was no reason to keep the store open past the end of the month for a couple dozen books. He’d donate them somewhere, he wasn’t quite sure yet.

 

Now he sat on the floor, the last of the items that needed to be packed around him. The radio dim in the background. The bookshelves would be picked up and hauled off to another store. Bobby promised to come by the next day to help him transfer the store sign to his apartment.

 

Mostly what was left was the memories. By the counter, he remembered dancing with his Mom to the Beatles. Or where the reading nook was, he read there on the weekends solving mysteries with the Hardy Boys. Him and Sam would swap books and hold impromptu book clubs with other kids as their parents talked with his Mom or bought books. Sam always the chatterbox, but he warmed up as he got older and more involved. As they grew older, both boys helped around the shop — sweeping the floor or straightening the shelves. By the time he was sixteen he worked during the summer on the counter or the floor wherever or whenever he could help.

 

It was crisp outside, a bit of sunshine, no flurries when he first came into the store. It neared five when he finished up. The packages and sign would be picked up tomorrow, the store put on the market, and that would be it. The end of an era.

 

He pushed the boxes to the side, leaned the sign against the books. He stared out at the store for one long, final look. The pale yellow walls were marked with bright squares where poster used to hang. The dust clung to the corners of the shelves. The alcoves and cabinets behind the counter dreary without the plush and book displays. The floor a bit scuffed from so many pairs of shoes and from when the tables and chairs were shoved to make room during story time.

 

He stepped outside the door and the bell chimed, too cheery for the somber moment. He locked up and lowered the roll cage. It rattled into place and he locked it. The empty windows gaped towards the sidewalk. He turned and walked away. He shoved his hands into his pockets and trudged against the flow of traffic and the wind.

 

Still to soon, Milton Books glowed in the dusk, yellow eye windows peered out. He pushed the door in and the smell of coffee and paper hit him. Neat displays with rows and rows of books enticed his eyes. Signs for different genres, subjects, types, and specials jumped out. People whispered and laughed. He drifted amongst them. It was — jarring, a bit unnerving, but happy. He hadn’t stepped inside a Milton Books before, all of his perceptions came from a quick peek through the windows and from the man who headed this one.

 

He passed the small cafe, all dark roasted coffee and baked goods. His stomach growled. He’d worked through lunch, not ready to leave his store yet. No pie, but slices of sweet bread, muffins, and cookies lined serving trays. Coffee makers lined the back and burbled as they boiled and warmed. But he didn’t come here for food. He still wasn’t sure what he wanted to get from his trip inside.

 

Inevitably, he wandered into the children’s section. A bit more sterile than his store, colorful character murals dotted the walls and the shelves were well stocked. A cluster of tables held coloring stations and books for early readers. Squishy bean bag chairs leaned against each other. A pair of siblings shared a chair and the older one helped the younger flip the pages. He brushed the edges of the books, skimmed the titles.

 

“I can’t remember the name of the book, or the author, but I do know the author is a man. She said it’s about kids who are orphans? But it’s not _The Boxcar Children_ , because ‘it’s new’. Something with an ‘S’ I think?”

 

He walked to the end of the bookshelf and saw an exasperated woman with a sales associate.

 

“I’m not quite sure what your daughter might want. Do you remember anything else?”

 

The woman frowned, remembering. “The cover had some blue?”

 

“Um.” It wasn’t his place, but it would at least solve the mom’s problem. “I think the book you’re looking for is _The Bad Beginning_ by Lemony Snicket. It’s pretty good for older kids about to hit pre-teens.”

 

The sales associate grinned, relieved. “How do you spell the last name?”

 

“Snicket? S-N-I-C-K-E-T.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

“No problem.”

 

The mom and sales associate walked towards another bookshelf and left Dean alone. He wouldn’t get to do that anymore. Sometimes it was frustrating, especially when the parents swore on their lives hand to God they were right. But everything was worth it to see the kids get excited about reading. And they still would here, hopefully.

 

He headed towards the front, passing stationary and book notions, nearly walking into a display of Milton Books mugs.

 

“Hope to see you again,” said the sales associate on the counter.

 

He stepped outside and pulled the collar up on his coat. God, what was he going to do? He brushed a tear out from under his eye with his thumb and headed towards the subway. He was going to do his best, it’s all he could do right now.

 

-o-O-o-

 

Subject: Endings

From: ImpalaGuy

To: NYC418

 

You know at the end of a movie when you leave the theater and the credits are still rolling and the cast and crew names scroll by and you have no idea who most of them are, but they were apart of the production somehow. And sometimes it makes me think about the people who aren’t major players in my life, but they’ve changed it somehow? Like people I see regularly on the subway or at work, people who I vaguely know, but not really. Do they even affect my life or are we running parallel?  Does it even matter? Everything’s about perspective anyway.

 

I’ve recently been in a — transition and it’s made me too nostalgic and whatever. Not a great combo with the depression and whatever, but therapy helps me process it. My roommate’s good about making sure I don’t wallow in it. But everything is finalize and I can’t go back. That part of my life is officially over now and it’s left me wonder what in my life will change beyond the obvious big parts. Hence the waxing poetic over movie credits of all things.

 

ImpalaGuy

 

Re: Endings

From: NYC418

To: ImpalaGuy

 

Not to minimize your feelings, but I think that’s general feel whenever anyone ends a portion of their life. High school, college, relationships, death of family members — a lot can disturb the life you’ve built up. I think what you need most is stability. You want to be able to have something stay in your life and not change. Isn’t the American Dream: a steady job, spouse and kids, roof over your head, and the promise that your life won’t change if you don’t want it to, that you can continue to live the life you’ve built?

 

I think that’s enough introspective for a Wednesday.

 

NYC418

 

Subject: Hobbies

From: ImpalaGuy

To: NYC418

 

I think that helps a little. While I’m waiting for my life to settle back down I’ve been trying to figure out hobbies. I thought I had spare time for hobbies before, but it turns out I did NOT and now I don’t know what to do with my life. My roommate suggested puzzles, my brother baking (which I already do, so it’s not so much a hobby but a plea for me to make my famous oatmeal chocolate chip cookies for him), my co-worker suggested knitting, but I’m pretty sure she was teasing me. I’m tempted to pick it up out of spite now. Which is a great motivator by the way, spite. I dunno, it looks pretty badass. Take all that yarn and make a fucking sweater. Tiny little baby booties. Got any suggestions? I’ll take any suggestion.

 

ImpalaGuy

 

Re: Hobbies

From: NYC418

To: ImpalaGuy

 

I’m glad you feel better. I enjoy doing crossword puzzles in my spare time, or sudoku. I feel like you would enjoy a more hands on hobby than crosswords or sudoku. Since you enjoy baking (which I assume you would be if you’re involved enough to have famous cookies. I envy those who get to eat them, they sound delicious) knitting might be a good hobby for you. I know you dismissed it as a spite activity, but they’re similar. Patterns are like recipes. Plus, at the end of each hobby you produce something you can enjoy, though the knitting project could be long term joy while the baking product would be (delicious) short term pleasure. Just thought you might like my two cents.

 

NYC418

 

Re:Re: Hobbies

From: ImpalaGuy

To: NYC418

 

I can’t believe all of you. I bought needles and yarn and now I’ve got a lumpy dishcloth. Not gonna lie, it feels weird as hell to knit. Can’t get the image of little old ladies out of my head. And those needles are slippery little fuckers. My book says that if I can manage the dishcloth I can make a scarf, which isn’t too wild it’s like a longer dishcloth, but it took so long to make the dishcloth. How do people make those sweaters?

 

ImpalaGuy

 

Re:Re:Re: Hobbies

From: NYC418

To: ImpalaGuy

 

Practice makes perfect! And a lumpy dishcloth sounds exactly on track for someone who just picked up knitting, so don’t be hard on yourself. I can’t answer the sweater question, but I know socks can take four or five needles.

 

NYC418

 

Re:Re:Re:Re: Hobbies

From: ImpalaGuy

To: NYC418

 

WHAT DO YOU MEAN FOUR TO FIVE NEEDLES!?!?!?!?!?!

[ ](https://ibb.co/cHiY00)

-o-O-o-

 

April giggled and leaned into him, dragging her hand down his chest. “That was such a good show. And I’m so glad we caught up with your brother afterwards. He sure know how to pour a heavy Manhattan.”

 

Castiel sighed and stared out the taxi window. The show had been April’s idea, but he didn’t mind indulging her. After the holidays, they rarely spent any time together, often missing each other in the morning. She still hadn’t sold her apartment, but spent most of her nights at his place. He should have corrected her back in September. He should have told her that he wasn’t comfortable living with her until they were married, but the sex embargo had almost been a breaking point in their relationship, so he didn’t want to poke the bear. It should have been his first clue.

 

His increased sense of unease around her after their romantic dinner turned sour night should have been his second.

 

His Christmas confrontation with Gabe and New Year’s affair with Dean should have been his third and fourth clue, but apparently he needed it printed out in large letters: it wasn’t going to work.

 

After meeting Dean and learning he was ImpalaGuy everything tumbled together. April would not fix his problems with his parents. He should have recognized his problems long ago, but he stubbornly ignored them and everyone who pointed them out for years. He ignored himself. Not any longer. If he continued like this he had a strong feeling Meg and Gabe would stage an intervention.

 

The problem was breaking up with April

 

He’d already put it off for six weeks: the moment wasn’t right, she had a bad day, he had a bad day, or it was a good day and he didn’t want to ruin it. Every night he went to sleep and hadn’t broken up with her, his conscience danced around his mind, pleaded and bargained him to break up with her.

 

“Castiel,” she whispered in his ear, breath warm. She slipped her hand inside his suit jacket and she teased the buttons on his shirt. “We’re not that far away from our one-year anniversary. Do you have an surprises in store for me?”

 

Plenty. None that she would want, however. “I don’t want to ruin anything.”

 

She squealed. “You tease. I have something very, very, exciting planned for you.”

 

The taxi pulled up to the curb and Castiel payed, helped usher April out and on her feet. She wobbled a smidge, on the border of buzzed and tipsy. “Oh Castiel, my strong man. Mmmm, I have so many plans.”

 

“That’s nice, April.” He gripped her arm and waist to help guide her into his apartment on her tall heels. He should have sent her back to her apartment, but he knew she would sigh, say she was okay sleeping alone, and sulk. Another point where he conceded to her frustrations instead of his comfort. Add it to the long list of ‘Reasons Castiel Has Let This Relationship Go on For too Long, Resulting in Harm to Both Participants’.

 

They shuffled through the lobby to the elevator. He pushed the button several times as April nodded it off against this shoulder. Curse Gabriel and his alcohol cart. The visit wasn’t worth it, as Gabriel spent the whole time dropping hints to him to break up with April, she none the wiser. He wished they hadn’t caught Gabriel’s eye as they left the theater.

 

The elevator doors pinged open and they lurched inside. He pressed his floor button and leaned against the back wall. April was cradled between his shoulder, arm, and the corner of the elevator. “I can’t wait until we have sex. Normally I don’t wait this long, but I have for you. You should feel special. God, I’ve bought three new vibrators because of you.”

 

He shuffled back and forth. Surely the elevator could go faster. “That’s nice.”

 

“Mmmm, your dick’s gonna be so hard when you see me in the lingerie I have picked out for our one year anniversary. My friends have told me I should dump you already, get a man who would actually take care of me. They’re not wrong. I should have. But dating’s such a shit show. I can settle for you.”

 

The doors opened and he rushed them down to his apartment. He sat her down on the couch and went to the kitchen to get her a glass of water. “Here. How do you feel?”

 

“Honestly,” she drained the glass. “Not terrible. Nice buzz going. Not dizzy anymore. Seriously, you need to loosen up.” She peered through her eyelashes and grinned. “I can help you with that.”

 

He took the glass from her and stepped back. “April, I’ve talked about it before. I’m not comfortable —”

 

“Is it because I’m ugly?”

 

He blinked. “No, you’re not ugly.”

 

“Then why won’t you fuck me? Do I literally have to throw myself on you? A relationship is more than just talking and going on dates. It’s about listening to your partner. I want to be intimate.”

 

“April, I’m not sure I can.”

 

“What’s holding you back? We’ve been together for almost a year. Every other boyfriend I’ve had would’ve already had sex with me. I’ve got needs, Castiel, and you’re not fulfilling them.”

 

He should’ve never let it get this far. He should’ve run at the first sign of trouble. He should’ve let her go. “April, I don’t think I can do this anymore.”

 

She glared at him. “What do you mean?”

 

He swallowed and stared at the floor. “I’d like to break up.”

 

She turned away from him and sighed. “Why couldn’t you do it sooner? Why keep me attached for so long? Why introduce me to your family, your parents?”

 

“I know it’s not ideal. I should’ve done this sooner, but all I can do right now is end it and apologize. I’m sorry for keeping you attached for so long. I should’ve let you go.”

 

She crossed her arms. “How long? How long have you felt like this?”

 

He took a deep breath. “The beginning.”

 

She crumpled into the couch. “Jesus Christ.”

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

“Forget it.” She turned around and splayed out on the couch.

 

He watched her before he deposited the glass in the sink. He entered his bedroom where Honey dashed around his legs. “Not right now, sweetheart. It’s been a long night.” He pulled out his suitcase and threw whatever he thought he might need inside. He couldn’t stay here. It might be his, but it would forever be tainted by the time he spent dragging April around in a loveless relationship. He’d need to put it up on the market.

 

He slipped out of his bedroom and guided Honey along. He clipped her leash on and threw on a coat. He would come back later for his things.

 

-o-O-o-

 

Subject: Endings Part Two

From: NYC418

To: ImpalaGuy

 

It must be the season for endings. Last night I had an epiphany. Maybe not so much an epiphany, but the requests and concerns of my friends and family finally made sense. My actions have been dour when it comes to relationships. At this point, we’ve been chipping away at what we originally wanted off the tables, but I find it harder each message to stand by those rules. And if I want to be honest, you need to know too because you were involved in a way. Last night I broke up with my girlfriend of almost a year. I had never been happy in the relationship as I only entered it to appease my parents. I know, desperate. But I thought I could go through with it for their sake. And at the beginning, it wasn’t hard. The woman was tolerable, sometimes a companion. We worked in the same sphere and had several similar interests, but it was never going to be enough to sustain our relationship. And then we had cybersex on New Year’s and I realized what I was missing, but I was still too scared to break up with her. It came to a head last night and it was quite the fallout.

 

I packed up what I would need in the short term and left with Honey. We’re fine, if you’re worried (and not too bad off as I’m able to get in contact with you.) I’ll have to go back to my apartment eventually, but I don’t want to right now. It’s going to be a mess to sort out my belongings and find a more permanent place to live then where I’m at now.

 

I understand if you don’t want to message me anymore. First, I don’t meet with you and don’t even tell you why. Then, I cheated on my girlfriend with you (though to be honest by then the relationship had run its course, but that’s not an excuse. I had all the information and you had none.)

 

I hope to hear from you, but I understand if I don’t.

 

NYC418

 

Re: Endings Part Two

From: ImpalaGuy

To: NYC418

 

I’m not going to lie to you and say this is easy for me. It’s not like we’re exclusive, or even dating. We’re not dating, if anything we’re two people who met online and, during a moment of alcohol based judgement in the nostalgia of a year, had sex. I don’t even know if it does count as cheating since we physically didn’t do anything with each other. I guess that would be based on our own feelings. I don’t think I can share those feelings with you anymore. It might take awhile to trust you again. I don’t know if I can. I want to, but it might be awhile. I want us to stay friends, though. Don’t count me out yet, but it might be awhile before I e-mail again. I’ve gotta process everything. I’m glad you and Honey are safe.

 

ImpalaGuy

 

Re:Re:Re: Endings Part Two

From: NYC418

To: ImpalaGuy

 

That’s fair. I don’t even know where my own feelings lie right now. Maybe a break is what we need while we both figure out ourselves. Please take care of yourself. I won’t let myself have such a large ego that I’m the only one you can confide in, but I know it’s been easier for you to confide in me, a somewhat stranger, than friends and family at times. I feel privileged to have met you and got to know you.

 

NYC418


	2. Chapter 2

Dean sneezed. And sneezed. And sneezed. He knew it couldn’t be allergies, it was too early. He hoped he didn’t have that cold Charlie came home with last week, but he probably wasn’t lucky. His throat had been sore when he woke up and he hacked up gunk when he brushed his teeth. He grabbed a Kleenex and groaned when he came up empty. He maneuvered through the store boxes to the hall closet to grab another box. He collapsed onto the couch and cuddled the box. Colds sucked.

 

His time since the store’s closing was spent moping around the apartment and knitting. Lots of knitting. A progression of dishcloth quality filled the kitchen drawer to bursting. Charlie, Sam, and Bobby had scarves set aside for next year’s Christmas. A five pack of double pointed needles taunted him from the couch arm. He wanted to make socks, that was the thing you were supposed to make, right? But damn, four needles. He checked out pattern books from the library and asked around at the craft store for advice and the consensus was to go into the first pair with the goal of learning the skills and becoming comfortable with the needles. If he wasn’t satisfied with the sock, he could rip it out and start over.

 

Maybe he should have picked up puzzles like Charlie suggested.

 

The intercom crackled. “Hello?”

 

He dropped his yarn and stumbled to the intercom. He stubbed his toe. “Shit.”

 

“Hello?”

 

He put his face against it and pressed the button. “Hello?”

 

“Dean? This is Castiel. Castiel Novak.”

 

What a nerd. “How did you even know I live here?”

 

“My business partner apparently has run in the same circles as your roommate, Celeste Bradbury? She’s been over before and you had your bedroom door open?”

 

Well that could be anyone. “You can’t come up. I’ve got a cold. I’m contagious.” He coughed into the speaker. “I hacked up green gunk into the sink this morning. I’ve got an orange juice IV in. I’m not fit for company.” There was a knock on the door, not too loud, polite. Well, shit. Someone must have let him inside. He threw on his robe and stuffed the strewn Kleenexs into his pockets and kicked them to the side. He peeped through the peep hole and it was Castiel Novak, a bouquet of Gerber daisies in his hands. He ruffled his hair and opened the door. “Do you really want to come in?”

 

“I could’ve already been infected on my way here.” He stepped in and walked through to the living room. “You have a lovely place.”

 

“That’s a lie, but okay.” The store boxes were every, a path created to the bedrooms and the kitchen. The store’s sign leaned against the bar between the kitchen and the living room. He drifted to the fridge and poured himself a glass of orange juice. “Why are you here?”

 

“I — uh. I wished to see how you are. I imagine the last month as been a lot.”

 

He snorted. “Came here to gloat.”

 

His eyes widened. “No, I — uh.” He licked his lips. “I didn’t think this out very well.”

 

“That’s an understatement.” He drank half his juice. “Here’s the thing. That whole ‘it’s not personal, it’s business’ bullshit is exactly that: bullshit. Because it might not be personal to you Mr. Top of the Chain, but it is to people like me. To my employees. We all got dicked over by your store and no witty phrase is gonna bring it back.” He set his glass down too fast, juice lept to the edges, one drop dribbled down the side. “So, here I am, not sure why you even want to be here.”

 

He pet the petals of one of the flowers. “I know we haven’t had great interactions, but I was hoping to put that behind us. I know it might not work, but I thought we could maybe, be friends?”

 

That, was not what he expected. “What?”

 

“Well, beyond the third degree and jabs, I enjoyed spending time together in the cafe. Maybe I’m a glutton for punishment, but I don’t have many friends. The high powered executive lifestyle doesn’t leave much in the way for making friends. Deals? Sure. But not many friendships are made without some financial gain to come with it.”

 

“That sucks.” A tickle in the back of his throat. He covered his mouth with an elbow and turned towards the sink. Goddammit, why did his body have to embarrass him in front of a handsome guy? He coughed up gunk into the sink and turned on the water. He angled his head back towards Castiel. “Told you I wasn’t well.” A loose cough bent him over the sink. “Jesus. You sure you want to be around Typhoid Mary?”

 

“Positive. Nothing says friendship like contagious disease.”

 

A joke, a fucking joke. “Okay, what if I said yes to your friendship proposal?”

 

He frowned. “We would be friends?” Unsure, as if there was a catch to Dean’s question.

 

He leaned on the bar, not close enough to get his gross sick germs on Castiel, but close enough he could see the red-orange Gerber daisy petal stained the tips of his fingers. “Like, do you just want to talk over the phone or like actually hang out and stuff. Or be those friends who always tell each other that they’ll get together and never do.”

 

He licked his lips again. “I’d like to get to know you.”

 

He crossed his arms. “I’m not saying yes, but I’ll think about it.”

 

“I suppose that’s the best I can ask for in this situation.” He smiled and left the daisies on the counter. “Enjoy the flowers and I hope you feel better soon.”

 

“Thanks.” He clutched the flowers and nudged Castiel out the door. He shut it a bit too fast and raced back to the kitchen to find the one vase Charlie insisted they get for special occasions. Overall, it was an odd experience, but he always liked the Castiel who first came into his store than Castiel Novak, corporate goon of Milton Books. He filled the vase halfway and arranged the daisies in the vase. They perked up in the water and he sat it on the coffee table. It looked nice. He picked up his knitting needles and his skein of yarn to start his socks.

 

-o-O-o-

 

Cas had done many stupid things in his life, but going to Dean Winchester’s apartment was high on the list. He should never had done it, it crossed all kinds of boundaries. Yet the irony was that he had passed his apartment so many times. They could have met anytime in the street, yet they hadn’t met until he walked into his store. He should have waited and approached him in a more professional setting. Add it to the mountain of Problematic Things Cas Needed to Work On. One, boundaries. Two, separating work life versus personal life. Three, letting go of his parents influence. Four, give April a proper apology. Needless to say, he had a lot of work ahead of him.

 

His boat bobbed in the water, a soothing reassurance that everything would be alright, eventually. The view out the windows was cluttered with the other boats docked in the mariana. Honey ran the length of the sitting area, sniffing every nook and cranny. She had been on the boat a long time, back in her puppy years, and was thrilled when he took her there. Say what he will about the opulence of the boat, but he appreciated it at the moment. It was nice to have the comfort a hotel room wouldn’t provide and none of the questioning bunking with Meg or Gabe would cause. He continued to put off returning to his apartment and talking with April. Five, coward.

 

A knock startled him. He opened the door and Gabe stood on the deck, a costume captains’ hat on his head. “I thought you hated this thing?” He kicked the edge of the doorway.

 

“I do.” He opened the door wider so he could come in. “But I don’t have many options. This was the best solution.”

 

“You could go back to your apartment.”

 

“Not an option.”

 

“And why not?”

 

“Because I broke up with April and I actually don’t know if she’s still there.” He walked towards the sitting room and anticipated Gabe would follow him.

 

“Dude, wasn’t that a couple of weeks ago?”

 

He pulled the stopper from a whiskey bottle. “Yes, but she’s been moving herself in the last couple months.” He grabbed the glasses and paused. “Actually, she’s been doing it for almost six months now. Funny how much time pasts when you’re not as involved in the relationship as you thought.”

 

“Jesus, you need a spine. Your personal relationships just go down the crapper.”

 

Cas poured two drinks and handed one to Gabe. “So I’ve been told. April’s only left two messages, but I haven’t listened to them.”

 

“Gonna put in any effort or are you just going to live on this boat for the rest of your life? I think Honey might like to feel grass under paws at some point.”

 

“I don’t know what to do. I broke up with April and I thought that would get rid of my problems, but it didn’t.”

 

“Nothing in life can be solved in one easy step. What does your therapist say?”

 

“My therapist?”

 

“Yeah, I told you to get a therapist at Christmas. Did you not?” He looked at him and groaned. “No, of course you didn’t.”

 

“You suggested it. A suggestion is not a instruction, just merely a bit of advice.”

 

“Don’t be so fucking obtuse. Do I need to make the appointment and drive you there?”

 

He sloshed the whiskey around in his glass. “Maybe.”

 

“I was being rhetorical, but if you need me to, I will.”

 

He gripped the chair’s arm. “It’s hard.”

 

Gabe patted Cas’s knee and finished off his glass. “Life’s pretty ugly, but you have _got_ to stop this. It’s not good for you and I’m not capable of helping you by myself.”

 

“I know.”

 

“We’ll get you in ship shape. I won’t say in no time, because it’s gonna take a lot of time. Hope you’re ready for the long haul, kid.”

 

“I think I am. April was a first step and I’m not even past it yet.”

 

“That’s the spirit, but maybe a bit more positive.”

 

“I don’t know if I can make that positive.”

 

“Well, that’s the beauty of therapy. You’ll get there eventually. Now, tell me how boat living is like? I didn’t even know if you still had the key to this beauty.”

 

Cas relaxed into the armchair and chatted with Gabe. Honey laid at his feet, her tail thumped while she panted. First step on the Make Cas a Better Person list: therapy.

 

-o-O-o-

 

Draft: Socks

From: ImpalaGuy

To: NYC418

 

My first pair of socks are finished. You should be proud, they don’t look that bad at all. My tension was all over the place and there are a couple holes here and there, but they do the job. My brother and roommate are already begging me to make them a pair. They’ll get there’s once I make myself more. They’re cozy as fuck

 

Draft: Miss You

From: ImpalaGuy

To: NYC418

 

I miss our conversations. I thought I would be okay with out of them, but turns out — surprise — they’re actually a big part of my day. I needed a break, talked things out with my roommate and my brother. Yeah, they know about you, but they’re the only ones. And, ah, they know all of it. Gotta have some people looking out for me and turn me in the right direction. It’s stupid cause I think I love you. But I can’t tell them that, because they’ll say I shouldn’t be, that you’re just someone I met online and have no clue who you really are. Which is true, but it hurts. I’d like to think after all this time I would know you enough, and myself, to make a good judgement call. But, I, uh, haven’t always been good with relationships. Lots of breakups behind me. Sorry about that. I guess this is me trying to be vulnerable. I’m never gonna send this, but sometimes you just have to do things to get it off your chest, right? I hope you’re doing okay, that you and Honey are safe, and you’re taking care of yourself. I know you always tell me to take care of myself, but sometimes I wonder if anyone has ever told you.

 

Subject: Leap Year

From: ImpalaGuy

To: NYC418

 

What’s up with Leap Year? I get it serves a purpose, but it catches you off guard, you know? Within the first two months of the new year when you’re still putting the old year on your checks — bam! An extra day that only comes every four years.  Everyone’s thrown off. At least with things like elections and the Olympics, they’re special events. We put time out of our schedule to participate. But no, leap day is not opt-in. We’ve all got to get through it. If there was some fanfare, I could get behind it, but it’s just a normal day. Waste of an extra day if you ask me.

 

ImpalaGuy

 

Re: Leap Year

From: NYC418

To: ImpalaGuy

 

Maybe it’s more about what you make with the leap day. Do you plan anything special? Is the act of existing on that day special enough? Though I think I like the idea of a worldwide celebration. What if we took the day to do something nice, something for the betterment of humankind. I know I haven’t been the best I could be in the past, I’ll be making it up for a while, but this could give everyone the opportunity. It’s a nice thought. We’ve got two years to plan. Why don’t we make it special?

 

NYC418

 

P.S. I missed this

 

Re:Re: Leap year

From: ImpalaGuy

To: NYC418

 

Me too

 

ImpalaGuy

 

-o-O-o-

 

It was not a date. Cas needed to repeat that to himself for as long as it would take to sink in. He still could not fathom why Dean would agree to this meeting, but he wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Life was looking up for him: April evaporative from his life with little fanfare, therapy was okay, and Honey had yet to show any resentment for boat life. So, not bad overall.

 

He tapped his fingers on the table and glanced at his watch. Dean should be there any second. He stared out the window and watched the pedestrians scurry past. The cusp of spring brought new life into the city. Yes, things were looking up.

 

Dean slumped into the chair across from him. “Sorry I’m late.”

 

“Are you all right? Did something happen?” Dean’s eyes were a touch red and under his eyes were dark.

 

“No, I’ve just been up at night figuring out what I want to do next. I’ve got a couple of ideas, but I’m not sure what to do.”

 

“Is there any way to explore them or would you have to jump in?”

 

A waitress came by their table to take their drinks orders. Dean fiddled with the napkin dispenser. “One is going to take so much planning. Like, I’ve been planning it for years and never really had any hopes to get it off the ground. The whole thing with the store makes me want to take the chance, but I’m still not sure. The second is just to go find another bookstore and see what they’ll offer. After being the boss for so many years I don’t know how I’m going to do working under someone, but it can’t be that bad can it?”

 

The waitress returns with their drinks and gets their orders. Cas tilted his head and grabbed two sugar packets. “It depends. How well do you work with other people?”

 

“I wanna say not bad, but like, my whole work experience is distorted by the store. Before I was in charge, my mom was. After that, my employees either had work for my mom so I knew them or they were my own hires. I think I’ll do fine, but I won’t have as many options when I’m lower on the hierarchy. Who knows, maybe I’ll score a management position or something and then I’ll have at least some authority.” Dean sipped his coffee and sighed. “Actually, that makes me sound like a hot head who can’t work with others. I’m sure I’ll be fine. What about you? How’s the superstore going along?”

 

Cas grimaced. “Do you really want to talk about that?”

 

Dean shrugged his shoulders. “Look, what’s done is done. I’ve said my piece, you’ve said yours. Can’t really get the store back, so no use crying over spilt milk, you know?”

 

He pulled at his collar. Cleared his throat. “Well, the numbers look good. After,” he coughed, “after your store closed we saw an uptick in traffic and sales.” This was not the kind of conversation he should be having. “Was that inconsiderate? I know you said ‘no use crying over spilt milk,’ but it seems rude to talk about the positives that come from your store closing.”

 

“Dude, you’ve never worried about it before. Why now?”

 

“It’s been recently pointed out to me that my behavior was off-putting, boorish, and an amalgamation of alpha male behavior.”

 

“C’mon, it wasn’t that bad. So you’re a bit of a dick. Everyone is over something at some point in your life.”

 

“Yes, well there’s a difference between an occasional dick and consistently and continuously a dick. The new year has brought many epiphanies.”

 

“You do realize you can seperate the two parts of you: the business dick and the guy who isn’t a dick. Keep business guy around for all those deals and the other guy for your personal life.”

 

The waitress returned with their orders — burgers for both of them — and flashed Dean a smile before she left. Cas squirted ketchup to the side of his fries. “The problem is that I thought I was doing that for years. You put your business face away when you get home. I don’t know anymore if I want to keep that up. It’s frustrating, it’s exhausting, it’s —” He stabbed a french fry into the ketchup. “It’s too much. And I don’t think I want to do it anymore. Look how it turned out with you. Where’s my boundary between business and personal when I saw you in and out of it? Where’s my line? I think I’d rather give up the whole mess and just be _me._ ”

 

“Christ, how long have you been keeping that in?”

 

“My therapist is starting to think it’s been a significant amount of time. But the important thing is I want to change. And I think it’ll be for good.”

 

“If it matters, I think it will be. I can get why you’ve been a dick. You don’t become top-dog by being soft, but you’re kinda at a point where it was never really you to begin with, right?”

 

“Yes, at least I think so. If it was only snark, I’d keep it around, but withering, condescending nastiness is not snark.”

 

“Snark would look better on you.”

 

“I’m not sure that should be my approach, but if it solves some of my problems, I can take some comfort in it.”

 

“See, positives. And Rome wasn’t built in a day, or whatever, so don’t beat yourself up if you don’t change instantly. The fact that you’re actively working towards not-being-a-dick shows you actually believe in it. Like you said, you want to change, you’re taking the steps to change. You probably will change.” Dean picked at his fries. “I think that’s heavy enough for two people like, a month ago, were at each other's throats.  What should we talk about next: politics or religion?”

 

Cas laughed. “How about something lighter. Do you like pie? Because I hear the pie here is fantastic.”

 

Dean beamed. “You might just be all right.”

 

-o-O-o-

 

It was a mixed bag with Sam back in state. Plus side, no late night calls or penny pinching for long distance. Downside, a well meaning brother in his business that can’t be fixed with the push of a button.

 

“What are you gonna do today?” Sam leaned against the kitchen counter, coffee in one hand, toast in the other.

 

“Not sure. I’ll find something.” Dean glanced over. “And get a plate or something. I don’t want crumbs on the floor.”

 

Sam frowned and leaned over the kitchen sink. “Are you gonna go outside? Sun’s good for you and all that.”

 

“Maybe? Look, I know you’re looking out for me, but I’m fine. Promise. If I get bad I’ll let you or Charlie know. Ok?”

 

He cleared his throat and shifted. “Charlie told me, that you’ve gone to therapy?”

 

“Yeah, to a psych, got some meds. Didn’t really agree with me. Been going to a different guy since then.” He stirred his cereal. “The talking sucks, but it helps.”

 

Sam brushed crumbs off his fingers and shuffled towards the table. “So, everything’s okay?”

 

He sighed and pushed his cereal to the side. “Could it be better? Yeah. But the more I talk about, sometimes it just seems redundant. I know you and Charlie want to make sure I’m okay, but I wanna get past it not stew in it.” Sam stared to stay something, but he held up a hand. “And before you apologize, it’s okay. I get it.”

 

“I didn’t realize that’s what it’s like for you.”

 

“I think it’s more of a me thing than a general depression/anxiety thing. Or maybe it is a depression/anxiety thing and I can’t tell anymore.”

 

“So what helps you?”

 

NYC418. “Arguing with daytime TV. Sometimes I’ll go out and walk around the city. I started knitting quilt squares. And Charlie makes sure I’m kept up to date on all the industry news.” He shrugged. “I know it doesn’t sound like a lot, but I see part of this as a vacation. I never took time off when I ran the store, so I’ve never really thought about what I would if I had all this time, you know? Long as I still talk to the therapist and walk around every once and a while I call it a win.”

 

“Yeah, but don’t you miss the social aspect of the store? You’re like the biggest extrovert I know.” He paused. “Maybe not extrovert. But you like to be around people on your terms.”

 

“Charlie makes sure there’s plenty of people coming through here. You know her, social butterfly.”  

 

“C’mon, you’ve got to have friends outside of work.”

 

“Not really. Most of my friends are through Charlie or work.” That was depressing, really. When did he stop making time for his friends and kept in touch with them via Charlie? When did his life just become his job? Sure he had hobbies, but he wasn’t that secluded from social life, was he? “Oh God, am I a hermit?”

 

Charlie slumped to the coffee maker and leaned on Sam. “Morning.”

 

“Dean’s having a bit of an epiphany this morning.”

 

“‘Bout what?” She fumbled for the cabinet door and pulled out a mug.

 

“The fact he’s become an anti-social hermit.”

 

She snorted and poured coffee. “I could have told you that.” She turned towards the kitchen table. “I’m telling ya, I get people asking where you are all the time. Friendship is a two way street, you know.” She leaned against the counter, her face softened. “And we want you all back on the road.”

 

He groaned. “God, was that the cheesiest thing you could think of?”

 

“Hey, it’s too early in the morning to talk about heavy shit. We’re starting a new campaign. Think you want in?”

 

“Yeah, I’ll make sure I’m there.”

 

“Excellent.”

 

A muffled “You have mail,” blurted out from Dean’s computer. Charlie perked up. “Oh, is that your friend?”

 

Sam frowned. “Friend?”

 

“Yeah, Dean’s got himself an internet friend. They’ve been talking back and forth for, what, almost a year now?”

 

“I told you that in confidence.” No heat behind his words, it was Charlie after all.

 

“Didn’t you also mention it to Krissy or Kevin?”

 

“Kevin, and it was a fucking accident. Christmas has got of a bit of haze on it. He probably doesn’t remember though.” He paused. ”No, wait, I think I did tell Krissy once. She didn’t think I had it in me to date anyone. Had to prove her wrong somehow.”

 

“Wait, so you’re dating this person.”

 

“No.”

 

“Yes.”

 

He stared at Charlie. “Who said I was dating him? We just talk.”

 

“Yeah, you talk. But I can always tell when a message is from him because it’s like you light up.”

 

“Definitely cheesy this morning.”

 

“But you do! You did when he just heard the alert. Don’t tell me if it’s not from you won’t be a bit disappointed.”

 

“Yeah, but almost everyone I e-mail is in this room. So the probability it’s not him is pretty slim.”

 

Sam winced. “Okay, so you,” he pointed at Dean, “have been messaging a guy online since.” He paused. “Wait, did you start on your birthday last year?”

 

God these two.”Yeah.I went in the over thirty chat room and we struck up a conversation. It was the end of January, Charlie was out with her DnD group, and I was lonely.” He paused. “Which, looking back, should’ve also been a sign. But he’s pretty cool, so we just kept talking.”

 

“Except for when he ditched you,” added Charlie,

 

“Yeah, except for that. But we’re over that now.”

 

“Were you going to meet him?”

 

“Back in January. He never showed up. We got over it, but it fucked up our flow for a while.”   
  
Sam sat his mug on the counter. “Would you want to meet him again.”

 

Dean stared out across the apartment, at the stack of boxes, knitting projects. The vase that held Cas’s flowers. “I’m not sure.”

 

-o-O-o-

 

Subject: Spring

From: NYC418

To: ImpalaGuy

 

I’m warning you, this is cheesy and cliche, and quite possibly the most hyperbolic message I have ever sent a living person. There’s something about spring that makes new beginnings pop up like crazy. I’m happy to report Honey and I have found more permanent housing and while she’ll probably never forgive me from moving her away from her favorite hot dog stand (I swear they purposefully dropped hot dogs for her), at least the view from the new place is stunning. I’m in the process of finding a new hobby as the lack of significant other in my life has freed up more time than I thought it took up. Maybe I should go into knitting like you did, though we wouldn’t be able to compare projects. Is it out of season to knit in spring?

 

NYC418

 

Re: Spring

From: ImpalaGuy

To: NYC418

 

Dude, that was so cheesy. Like, mac and cheese levels of cheese. But it’s good to hear you and Honey are in a more permanent location.

 

Okay, now I’m not trying to be crude or whatever, but I thought you didn’t like your old girlfriend, so how would she take up so much time? (It’s cool if you don’t want to say anything, that’s pretty personal).

 

I’m a quarter of a way through a sock, so I’m gonna say knitting is not regulated by season. How else are you supposed to finish everything by the time fall and winter come around?

 

ImpalaGuy

 

Subject: My Ex

From: NYC418

To: ImpalaGuy

 

I’ll start with that I feel we’ve shared enough personal info that me explaining the in’s and out’s of my last relationship is not the deepest we’ve ever gone, but thank you for respecting the outcome of my decision. My relationship with my ex was...interesting to say the least. We had been together prior to meeting you, but when we started interacting, we had only been dating for a couple of months. My parents adored her (and if I’m honest nudged my towards her), so it was inevitable I’d spend more time with her. By fall, she had practically moved into my apartment, but still occasionally spent time at her place. And what should have been a time when we got closer, I never felt more farther apart. We both have demanding jobs we’re dedicated to, so I didn’t expect us to spend anymore time together, but we were almost latched at the hip at social engagements. She tried to keep us together, but I was too much of a carpet to tell her I didn’t think it was working. I didn’t realize until we broke up that most of those social and work engagements were for her, so suddenly I had all this time. To be fair, I was also working on a major project at work at the time, which was also finished around the time I broke up with her. Hence the free time, the hobbies, and knitting.

 

I picked out some yarn today and thought of you. The sales associate was very kind when she asked what my wife sent me to get her.

 

NYC418

 

Re: My Ex

From: ImpalaGuy

To: NYC418

 

Damn, that’s a downer. But, you’re better now (right?) and that’s what matters. Sucks the sales associate thought you were only in for your wife. There’s a little yarn shop not too far from where I live and at this point they all know me. And they’ve been super patient with my questions. Who knows, maybe you’ll warm up to them in no time.

 

ImpalaGuy

 

P.S. Halfway done with sock one!

 

-o-O-o-

 

Cas pawed around the countertop for the box cutter. It had to be somewhere. His fingers brushed against metal and it skittered across the counter top. There it was. He pulled it down and opened up two more boxes. Bath supplies and more books. He sighed. He knew he should have labeled them, but he didn’t have a Sharpie and now he was never going to find his kitchenware. Good thing pizza comes in a box and can be eaten with your hands.

 

Honey zoomed back through, sniffed the edges of a window, and padded towards him. She shoved her head under his hand and he obliged her as he opened the pizza box.

 

The apartment was smaller, similar in affluence, but his own. He had picked the last apartment under the careful eye of his mother and while it was nice, it never felt like home.

 

The door banged open, a noisy entrance to match Gabe. “This has got to be books. It’s too damn heavy to be anything else.”

 

He rolled his eyes, dropped his slice, and pulled the top box off Gabriel’s stack. “It’s part of the business.”  

 

“No, the business is selling books, not buying so many you can start your own bookstore out of your house. Keep it for the public.”

 

Meg slipped through the open door with a crate. “Fine, just leave me downstairs, jackass.”

 

Gabe stuck out his tongue. “Yeah, well you didn’t have to shaft me with the heavy boxes.”

 

He shifted the box and sat it down next to kitchen island. “Just set it next to the wall and grab a slice. We can take a break.”

 

“You know you can hire people to move your stuff.” Gabe plopped down in the barstool and pulled a slice out of the box.

 

“I sold my furniture with my apartment. I bought it under Mother’s influence and I didn’t feel like keeping it.” He licked a glob of cheese off his hand. “Also, the couch was never comfy.”

 

“So how long are you going to sleep on the floor? Or are you going to have Hannah send someone out to get you new furniture?”

 

“I’m fully capable of picking out my own furniture.”

 

Meg snorted. “Sure Mr. ‘I Can Move My Own Belongings’. Please tell me, do you plan to take your new couch on the subway or will you spring for a taxi?”

 

“You’re insufferable.” Honey whimpered at his feet and he picked a piece of sausage off to feed her. “I’ve had Hannah clear my next Saturday so I can go shopping. And yes, I will get someone to move my furniture for me.”

 

“Yeah, but you won’t be moving furniture with anyone any time soon.” Gabe waggled his eyebrows. “If you want me to set you up, just let me know.”

 

He sighed. “No, I don’t think I’ll be doing that anytime soon.”

 

Meg peeled a mushroom off her slice. “Not even with Dean?”

 

Gabe turned towards Cas. “Dean? As in ‘Shop Around the Corner’ Dean? Have you too been keeping me out of the loop?”

 

“Cas has been e-mailing him for a little over a year now. The two dorks refused to share anything super personal, but when they decided to meet in person Cas couldn’t tell him he was there for him.”

 

“Cold, dude.”

 

He kicked Gabe. “It was after his store had announced they were closing. It was the worst time for me to meet him in the first place. What was I supposed to do? Just tell him we had been talking back and forth for months and he should ignore every other interaction with me? I couldn’t do that and he certainly didn’t let me.”

 

“But, you’ve been hanging out with the guy for months, surely you’ve dropped a phrase or a hint or something.” Meg walked over to the fridge and pulled out three beers. “Said something only NYC418 would know? I can’t believe you haven’t spilled the beans.”

 

“Okay, now I think you’re all just keeping me out of the loop for punishment.” Gabe tore his crust and threw it at Meg. “I blame you.”

 

She sat the beers down and flipped him off. Cas grabbed a beer and popped the top. “I can’t tell anymore what Dean tells me and what he writes me as ImpalaGuy. I wouldn’t be surprised if I told him something only NYC418 should know.”

 

Gabe teased the bottle wrapper. “Why don’t you tell him you’re NYC418? What’s stopping you? You’re friends, right, so it shouldn’t be an issue. Not like when you were still at each other throats.”

 

He sighed. He’d been thinking about it too and only came to one conclusion. And he wasn’t sure what to do with it. “We’ve told each other things in our message I don’t think Dean would ever say to anyone outside of his family. In some cases, I don’t even know if his family knows. Sometimes it’s just easier to tell a stranger, you know? And I’m afraid if Dean knows it’s _me_ he’s been telling everything he’ll end our friendship. And I don’t want that to happen. I like his companionship.”

 

Meg raised an eyebrow. “Are you in love with him?”

 

“Love?” And where had that even come from, well, not exactly from nowhere. “I don’t think so, not yet.”

 

Meg and Gabe shared a look. “Sure, bro. Whatever helps you sleep at night.” He slid his beer across the island and picked up a box. He lightly tossed it and a muffled jumble came out. “I think this might be bathroom.” He skipped out of the room leaving Meg with Cas.

 

Cas drummed his fingers on the island. “I’m in love with Dean, aren’t I?”

 

“You’ve got it bad, Cas. When ya gonna tell him?”

 

He finished off his beer. “I don’t know if I will.”

 

-o-O-o-

 

“I’m moving in with Dorothy.” Charlie glomped Dean, jostling in from his chair.

 

“That’s great, but lay off a bit, you’re choking me.” Man did she have a death grip. “So when are you getting out of here?”

 

“Not for a bit. I don’t want to break our lease, but Dorothy and I are going to be looking at apartments soon. She wants to get out of her shoebox ASAP.”

 

“Hey, we’ll work something out to get you and Dorothy together sooner. You practically live over there now. Will you even need to move anything?”

 

She punched his shoulder. “Hey, I live here too. On occasion. Okay, maybe not as much as I thought I did.”

 

“I had to chuck out your soy milk the other day, it got bad. And I swear I saw dust on your computer. Dust, Charles.”

 

“Okay, okay, maybe I don’t even live here at all anymore.”

 

Aw shit. “Hey, I’m just really glad you’ve found someone you love. I’m proud of you. Let me know when your commitment ceremony is gonna be. I’ll be there on the first row.”

 

“You mean you won’t be my maid of honor?”

 

“I didn’t figure you and Dorth would want to go all traditional.”

 

“Hey, no one said we couldn’t go all out. Besides, that’s a long way out.”

 

“Don’t tell me if you could get married you wouldn’t in a heartbeat.”

 

“Trust me, no one is throwing out the M word.”

 

He stood up to hug her. “I’m still happy for both of you. We should celebrate.” He walked to the kitchen and pulled out the good whiskey from Christmas. Charlie sat the tumblers down on the counter. “To you and Dorothy.” He held his glass up. “May you have a long and happy life together.”

 

She hopped up on the counter and angled the glass towards him. “What are you gonna do? You’re at a good place right now to start over, do something new. And we’ve gotten you out of the apartment, so that’s one success. What’s the next step for Dean Winchester?”

 

“I’m thinking about checking in with some publishing companies, see what they’ve got. Probably will get stuck in slush piles, but it’s something. I’m not really into the idea of working at another bookstore.”

 

“You could always see if any of the libraries are hiring. I hear you make a great storyteller.”

 

He snorted and looked down at the glass. “Yeah, but they don’t just hire storytellers.”

 

“Then volunteer. Don’t tell me you don’t miss that. I know that was your favorite part.”

 

She wasn’t wrong. It wouldn’t be so bad. “Yeah, I could do that. But I do need to find something soon. I don’t want to run into my savings.”

 

“You have been throwing out resumes while you’ve been moping, right?”

 

Yeah, he wasn’t going to answer that question.

 

“You haven’t?” She punched him in the shoulder. “Dude, it’s almost been two months.”

 

“Can’t a guy take a vacation?”

 

“A vacation is a couple weeks, a month at most. You’ve got to get back in the game. I thought we already talked about this?”

 

“I know and I thought I wouldn’t be this bad. If I had my way, you know what’d do.”

 

She smiled. “Yeah, maybe one day we’ll get that off the ground, our own little queer publishing press. But you know others are already fighting the good fight.”

 

“And we do too.”

 

She stared at him. “You know we love you, right?”

 

Where was this headed. “Um, yeah.”

 

“So I say this as someone who loves you.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“Are you dating Castiel Novak?”

 

“The fuck, Charlie?”

 

“You keep meeting him for cute lunch dates and whatnot. What’s a girl supposed to think?”

 

“A girl is supposed to keep her nose out of other people’s business.”

 

“It’s a valid question. You two where hissing at each other like cats up until you announced the store was closing. What am I supposed to make out of you guys hanging out?”

 

“We could be just a couple of guys hanging out. Not everything has to have an ulterior motive.”

 

“I know, but I also know you were pretty cut up about the store closing. Don’t argue with me that it didn’t fuck you up a bit, we’ve long gone past that. It’s okay to have a friend to reach out to. Like NYC418.  I’m glad you’ve got someone else to talk to, besides them.”

 

He sighed. “If I tell you something do you promise not to squeal?”

 

“Of course.” Her eyebrows furrowed, she placed a hand on his forearm.

 

“God, okay.” He licked his lips. “I kinda like both of them and I don’t know what to do about that.”

 

“Okay, what’s stopping you from asking either of them?”

 

“With Cas, I don’t know if he’d be into that. Obviously we must be at least okay friends, but he’s a big business guy. Even if he was queer, it’s not like he could announce it to the world without the stock dropping.”

 

“And NYC418?”

 

“We already tried meeting once before and you heard how that turned out. I don’t know if I could put myself through that rejection again.”

 

“He didn’t reject you —”

 

“C’mon Char, he didn’t show up. I should have known how to take a hint.”

 

“But you guys still talk, that’s got to count for something?”

 

He finished off his whiskey. “I wanna believe, but I’m scared to take the risk.”

 

“You’ll never know if you don’t take it.” He sighed. “And I’ve never seen you be so hesitant on anything. What happened to Dean “Give’em Hell” Winchester?”

 

“This different. Kinda don’t want my heart to get trampled here.”

 

“Just think about it. Don’t deny yourself over something with a fairly easy solution. If neither of them want to date you, you’ll still have good friends, and we can go get trashed at a bar. I’m gonna have your whole life turned around by summer if it’s the last thing I do.”

 

He bumped her shoulder. “I think I can take care of myself, Charles.”

 

“Tell that to the permanent ‘Dean’ spot in the couch. First thing first, resume. Then we can get back to work on the Get Dean Back Into Civilization Project.”

 

“Oh, so is that what you and Sam are calling it?”

 

She rolled her eyes and he laughed. Maybe it was about time he took some risks.

 

-o-O-o-

 

ImpalaGuy: What are you doing up at this hour?

 

NYC418: I could say the same about you.

 

ImpalaGuy: Touche

 

ImpalaGuy: Sometimes I can’t sleep.

 

NYC418: That would be insomnia

ImpalaGuy: No, it’s different than that. You just stay up running life scenarios in your mind and you realize shit and it’s hard to go back to sleep after an epiphany like that.

 

ImpalaGuy: So you just stay up.

 

NYC418: I don’t think I’ve experienced that, though I’ve stayed up for plenty of other reasons. Or just worked through the night.

 

ImpalaGuy: “Worked” ;)

 

NYC418: It’s been a long time since I’ve “worked through the night”

 

NYC418: Honestly, I’d rather have sleep at this point

 

NYC418: Though the company is good

 

ImpalaGuy: Aw, you flatterer

 

NYC418: I don’t know if I’ve ever been called flat before

 

ImpalaGuy: Are you always this obtuse at 3 in the morning?

 

NYC418: Some say I’m acute

 

ImpalaGuy: Have you always been this much of a smart-ass?

 

ImpalaGuy: How did I miss it?

 

NYC418: I’d like to think it’s endearing

 

ImpalaGuy: It probably doesn’t help we immediately went into heavy stuff

 

ImpalaGuy: Like, I know we talk about the good stuff too, but it’s nice to have someone to lean on

 

ImpalaGuy: I don’t know if I’ve ever told you, but thank you. It’s meant a lot to me these last couple of months

 

NYC418: I can’t even say I’d do the same for all my friends because I don’t. At least not in awhile.

 

NYC418: Would you want to try to meet up again?

 

NYC418: That was erupt, nevermind

 

ImpalaGuy: Hey, don’t count yourself out yet. I know it didn’t turn out well last time, but I’d give it another chance.

 

NYC418: Are you free this week?

 

ImpalaGuy: I’m free Saturday afternoon. Where?

 

NYC418: Perfect. How about a park? Honey and I will meet you there around 4:00.

 

ImpalaGuy: Sure thing. But how will I know who you are amongst all the other guys with golden retrievers?

 

NYC418: Are there really that many attractive guys with golden retrievers at the park?

 

ImpalaGuy: Hey, I’ll be the judge of attractiveness

 

ImpalaGuy: I dunno, I don’t go to the park often to look for attractive strangers with golden retrievers

 

NYC418: I’ll be wearing a tan trench coat

 

ImpalaGuy: Now you’re making me rethink the sexy

 

NYC418: I put more thought and consideration into it than I think any other fashion choice in my life. It’s not just a tan trench coat

 

ImpalaGuy: Well now I’m curious. If your largest fashion decision was a trench coat what else can I expect from you?

 

NYC418: Then meet me on Saturday and you’ll find out ;)

 

ImpalaGuy: I guess I will ;)

 

-o-O-o-

 

Cas leaned back in his seat and watched Dean. He hadn’t spoken since the waitress placed his slice of pie down and he started to devour it. “What do you think?”

 

“This is some freaking good pie.” He eyed Cas’s piece. “You _are_ gonna eat your slice, right? Because if you don’t I’ll gladly take your slice.”

 

“I was waiting to start mine once I knew you liked yours. I would have offered to switch with you.”

 

Dean side eyed him. “I’m not that picky about my pie.” He used his fork to point towards Cas’s slice. “Though I’m not sure about yours. Coconut’s pretty sweet.”

 

Pie snob. “Coconut Cream is perfectly fine.”

 

“Don’t get me wrong. I don’t mind sweet pies, I just prefer them in their season. Coconut Cream is a summer pie.”

 

“Why a summer pie?”

 

“One, it’s cold. Two, coconut is a summer flavor. I don’t make the arbitrary food rules, I just follow them.” He took another bite of his apricot pie. “Goddamn this is good.”

 

Dean was right, he should eat his before it got warm. Perfectly creamy and chill. “You’re missing out, this is good. Do you want a bite?”

 

He hummed and cocked his head. “Sure.”

 

“That’s a quick turn for someone who was being a pie snob.”

 

“Hey, free pie is free pie. I’m not gonna pass it up.” He smiled and Cas’s chest warmed.

 

He cut a piece and held it out for Dean. God, he felt cheesy doing it, but what else was he going to do? Steal Dean’s fork? He could have held the fork out to him to take, but was it too late? Apparently, because Dean leaned forward and ate the piece off the fork, a shit-eating grin on his face.

 

“That’s good. I’ll have to remember to come back here.”   


“Or we can come back for another lunch.”

 

“Pie for lunch? You rebel.”

 

What a dork. Yet here he was, months since he first struck up the idea for them to hang out and almost half a year since he first met Dean. And it was nice. “Sometimes you have to treat yourself.”

 

Dean scrapped his fork against the plate. “This has been nice.” He huffed and scooped up the pie crumbs and melted whipped cream. “Remember when you saw me in that coffeeshop, like, in January?”

 

Oh shit. Did Dean figure it out? “Yes?”

 

He ducked his head down. “You’re gonna laugh.”

 

“I promise I won’t laugh.”

 

“I was there to meet a someone I met on the internet.”

 

“And instead you got me.”

 

“Hey don’t sell yourself short.”

 

“I’m not. Back then I was a total jackass. I’m sure it was a major disappointment to have me show up when the person you wanted to show up didn’t?” Wait, did Dean tell him that. “Well, they at least didn’t show up while I was there or you would have made sure I’d left.”

 

“They never did. It was a rough patch for us, but we’ve kept in touch sense then and,” he rubbed the back of his neck, “I’m supposed to meet up with them today.” He scooted himself away from the table. “Hell, I’m nervous and I don’t know what to do. We’ve known each other for so long I'm afraid I’m gonna build it up and I’ll be disappointed when we finally meet. Is that weird?”

 

“I don’t think it’s weird. You’ve known them for awhile, but you want to keep the camaraderie that you’ve had so far. You wouldn’t want to meet them if you didn’t like their company.”

 

“Yeah, they’re pretty great. And I think that’s why I’ve built it up so much.” He groaned and laid his head down on the table. “If I could just skip ahead to when I’m supposed to meet them, that would be great.”

 

“Nice to know that’s how you think of my company.”

 

“Crap, that’s not what I meant, I swear.”

 

He angled his water glass towards him. “I’m teasing you. I know you’re just nervous. It’s okay, you’ll do fine.”

 

“Maybe I should just cancel? If I can’t even make it through our conversation, how am I going to make it with them?”

 

He placed a hand on Dean’s forearm. “Hey, you’re getting worked up. Deep breath. Tell me about them.”

 

Dean took a deep breath, braced himself against the table. “Yeah, it’s just a lot coming up all at once. They’ve been really supportive of me the last year, you know with everything, and so I’ve got a lot of emotions tangled up with them. I know I’m gonna like them regardless, because I can’t imagine being that close to someone and it not translating to in person. It’s just _me_ that’s winding it up. There shouldn’t be any struggle.”

 

He pulled away. “Hey, you’re a great guy. If they couldn’t see it through all of your communication, why would they agree to a new meetup? They’ve got to be as excited as you are. Take the chance, I think it’s going to be good.” Oh dear, he didn’t know Dean would be so worked up about their meeting. But to be fair he completely flaked on you him the first time they were supposed to meet, well he didn’t, but Dean didn’t know that.

 

“I know. I know.” Dean wobbled up a smile. “And they’re pretty cool.” Another deep breath. “I’m gonna be okay. You know, they live in my neighborhood. There’s a chance I’ve seen them before. Imagine that, I’m at Starbucks or walking down the street and when I meet up with them I’ll realize I’ve already met them. God, I hope I wasn’t a dick.”

 

“Well, I’m pretty sure you’ve only been a dick to me, so you don’t have much to worry about. And you haven’t done it since, so I’d say the you I’ve gotten to know the last couple of months is a better reflection of you. I like the real you.”

 

Dean stared at him, a look on his face Cas couldn’t place, and he wanted to know so bad what was going through his head. “I’ve got to go. I’m supposed to meet up with them soon and I’ve got to get ready. We can set up another afternoon later.” He pulled his jacket off the back of the chair and rushed out of the pie shop.

 

What happened?

 

-o-O-o-

 

Dean stepped down the steps and hurried down the sidewalk. He was glad he remembered the dog treats for Honey before he sprinted out the door. Why did he have to take so long picking out a shirt? Who takes that long to pick out a shirt anyway? Him, apparently. He pushed his way around other pedestrians, eager to make it to the park. His pie date — not a date, not a _date_ — with Cas made him so conflicted. He thought he’d made his decision when he agreed to meet NYC418, but then his pie date — not a _date_ — set him back into a swirl. He never would have thought he’d fall in love with Cas, but the more he got to know him the easier it was. And now he would be making his decision.

 

It was a lovely spring day: a light breeze, sunshine, and the flowers had started to bloom. He entered the park and perked up when each dog passed. Black lab. Daschund. St. Bernard. Golden Retriever, nope, cute family. No man in a trench coat.

 

He turned around a corner and Golden Retriever bound towards him, leash dragged behind. “Where’s your owner?”

 

“Honey? Honey?” Cas came around the corner and Dean’s heart stopped. Tan trench coat. “Honey?”

 

Honey pawed at his leg, her nose nudged at his pocket with the dog treats. “Hey there, girl.” He patted her neck and she barked, tail wagging.

 

Cas stared at him. “Dean?”

 

He gripped Honey’s collar. “Hey Cas.”

 

He cleared his throat. “Hello Dean.” He broke out into a smile. “I see Honey likes you.”

 

Dean laughed and pulled a treat out of his pocket. “She does. I hope you don’t mind.”

 

“No not at all.” He walked up to him and laid a hand on in Honey’s fur. “She’ll love anyone who gives her treats.”

 

He stepped further into Cas’s space. “I —” He placed a hand on his chest. “I hoped it was you. I _wanted_ it to be you.”

 

“I knew it was you and I’m sorry for not bringing it up so —”

 

“I get it, Cas. We both saw me in the cafe, I wouldn’t have accepted it if you told me sooner. But, I’m glad it was you.”

 

“I’m glad you it was you, too.” Cas tipped up face down and hovered his lips over Dean’s. “Is this okay?”

 

He pulled a treat out and slipped it to Honey. Good, she’d be distracted. “Yes.” Cas leaned in and kissed him, a gentle press. He pulled back and rested his forehead against Cas’s. “Wanna go back to that pie shop?”

 

Cas smiled. “I’d love too.”

 

Dean grabbed Honey’s leash and bumped shoulders with Cas. He smiled and pecked Dean on the cheek. This, he could get used to.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Don't forget to give DeanOh some love for her [art](https://deanohthewriter.tumblr.com/tagged/hullosweetpea). 
> 
> If you liked this come say hi on [Tumblr](http://hullosweetpea.tumblr.com)


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